THE 

MIGHT  AND  MIRTH 

OF 

LITERATURE. 

A  TREATISE   ON    FIGURATIVE   LANGUAGE. 


IN  WHICH  UPWARDS  OF  SIX  HUNDRED  WRITERS  ARE 

REFERRED  TO,  AND  TWO   HUNDRED   AND 

TWENTY  FIGURES  ILLUSTRATED. 


EMBRACING   A   COMPLETE   SURVEY,  ON   AN    ENTIRELY   NEW  PLAN,  OF  ENGLISH   AND 

AMERICAN  LITERATURE,  INTERSPERSED  WITH  HISTORICAL  NOTICES  OF  THE 

PROGRESS  OF  THE  LANGUAGE,  WITH  ANECDOTES  OF  MANY  OF  THE 

AUTHORS,  AND  WITH  DISCUSSIONS  OF  THE  FUNDAMENTAL 

PRINCIPLES  OF  CRITICISM  AND  OF   THE 

WEAPONS  OF  ORATORY. 


BY  JOHN  WALKER  VILANT  MACBETH, 


NEW    YORK: 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS,  PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN    SQUARE. 
1875. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington, 


bg  tfje 

TO  THE 

REV.  GEORGE    S.  MOTT,  D.D., 

PASTOR   OF  THE   PRESBYTERIAN   CHURCH,  FLEMINGTON,  N.  J., 

IN  SINCERE  ACKNOWLEDGMENT  OF  WISE  ADVJCE  AND  THE  MOST 
FRIENDLY  OFFICES  AS  TO  THE  PUBLICATION  OF  THIS  VOLUME. 


Introductory  Notice. 


The  object  of  this  volume  is  to  create  and  fully  equip  a  new 
branch  of  study ;  to  discuss  Figures  of  Speech  far  more  thor- 
oughly than  ever  has  been  done;  to  urge  upon  pleaders,  preach- 
ers, and  all  who  write  or  speak  English,  many  very  important 
practical  advices ;  to  comment  specially  on  Shakespeare,  Milton, 
Demosthenes,  and  the  Bible;  to  present  a  wide  review  of  Ameri- 
can and  English  Literature;  and  to  make  the  whole  subject 
as  amusing  and  laughter-exciting  as  it  is  instructive.  Also,  we 
have  availed  ourselves  of  our  familiarity  with  Latin,  Greek,  and 
Hebrew ;  and  with  four  of  the  modern  languages,  French,  Ger- 
man, Italian,  and  Spanish. 

A 


LIST  OF  AUTHORS, 

WITH  BIRTH,  DEATH,  AND  COUNTRY. 


Abbadie,  Rev.  Jacques  ;  France;  1654-1727. 
Adams,  John  Quincy ;  United  States ;  1767-1848. 
Adams,  Thomas ;  published  1613-1633. 
Addison,  Joseph ;  England;  1672-1719. 
Aird,  Thomas;  Scotland;  1802. 
Akenside,  Mark;  England;  1721-1770. 
Alcaeus;  Greece;  about  611  B.C. 
Alexander,  J.  A. ;  United  States  ;  1809. 
Alfred,  King  ;  England ;  849-900. 
Alison,  Sir  Archibald;  Scotland;  1792-1867. 
Allison,  Sir  Richard;  England;  published  1599. 
Allston,  Washington;  United  States;  1779-1843. 
Ambrose,  Saint ;  Gaul ;  340-397. 
Ames,  Fisher;  United  States ;  1758-1808. 
Anacreon;  Greece;  died  476  B.C. 

Anselm  (Archbishop  of  Canterbury) ;  Piedmont ;  1033-1109. 
•  Anthon,  Charles  ;  United  States  ;  1797-1867. 
Arbuthnot,  John ;  Scotland;  about  1675-1735. 
Ariosto,  Ludovico  ;  Italy;  1474-1532. 
Aristophanes;  Greece;  about  460-380  B.C. 
Aristotle  ;  Greece  ;  384-322  B.C. 
Arnold,  Edwin;  England;  published  1856. 
Arnold,  Matthew ;  England ;  1822. 
Arnold,  Thomas ;  England;  1795-1842. 
Arthur,  T.  S.;  United  States;  1809. 
Atkinson,  Thomas ;  published  1791-1799. 
Atterbury,  Francis ;  England;  1662-1732. 
Augustine,  Saint  Aurelius ;  Africa ;  354-430. 
Austen,  Jane;  England;  1775-1817. 
Ayton,  Sir  Robert ;  Scotland;  1570-1638. 
Aytoun,  William  E. ;  Scotland;  1813-1865.  ^ 


iv  List  of  Aitthors. 

Bacon,  Lord ;  England ;  1561-1626. 

Baggesen;  Denmark;  1764-1826. 

Baillie,  Joanna ;  Scotland;  1762-1851. 

Bancroft,  George ;  United  States ;  1800 ;  living  in  1875. 

Barbauld,  Mrs.  Anna  Laetitia  ;  England;  1743-1825. 

Barbour,  John ;  Scotland ;  died  1396. 

Barham,  Richard  Harris  ("Thomas  Ingoldsby") ;  England;  1788-1845. 

Barlow,  Joel ;  United  States ;  1755-1812. 

Barnard,  Lady  Anne ;  Scotland;  1750-1825. 

Barnes,  Albert ;  United  States ;  1798-1870. 

Barnes,  William  ;  England ;  published  1803. 

Barrow,  Isaac ;  England ;  1630-1677. 

Barthelemy,  Jean  Jacques ;  France;  1716-1795. 

Barton,  Bernard ;  England;  1784-1849. 

Bascom,  John ;  Professor  in  Williams  College ;  living  in  1875. 

Bayle,  Pierre ;  France;  1647-1706. 

Bayly,  Thomas  Haynes ;  England;  1797-1839. 

Beattie,  James ;  Scotland;  1735-1803. 

Beaumont,  Sir  Francis;  England;  1586-1616. 

Bedell,  Gregory  T. ;  United  States;  1793-1834. 

Beddoes, Thomas  Lovell ;  England;  1809-1849. 

Beecher,  Henry  Ward;  United  States  ;  1813  ;  living  in  1875. 

Beecher,  Lyman ;  United  States  ;  1775-1863. 

Bellows,  Dr. ;  United  States  ;  1814. 

Bennett,  W.  C. ;  Ireland  ;  living  in  1875. 

Bethune,  George  W. ;  United  States  ;  1805-1862. 

Blair,  Hugh;  Scotland;  1718-1800. 

Blair,  Robert ;  Scotland;  1699-1746. 

Blanc,  Charles  ;  France  ;  living  in  1875. 

Blanc,  Louis;  France;  1813;  living  in  1875. 

Boker,  George  Henry;  United  States;  born  1823. 

Bolingbroke,  Lord ;  England;  1678-1751. 

Bonar,  Horatius;  Scotland;  born  1810. 

Bossuet;  France;  i627-/7O4. 

Boswell,  James ;  Scotland;  1740-1795. 

Boswell,  Sir  Alexander;  Scotland;  1775-1822. 

Bourdaloue,  Louis ;  France;  1632-1704. 

Bowles,  William  Lisle  ;  England;  1762-1850. 

Boyd,  A.  K.  H. ;  Scotland ;  1825  ;  living  in  1875. 

Brewster,  Sir  David ;  Scotland;  1781-1868. 

Bronte,  Charlotte;  England;  1816-1855. 

Brougham,  Lord ;  Scotland;  1778-1868. 


List  of  Authors. 

Brown,  Goolcl ;  United  States ;  1791-1857. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas  ;  England  ; .  1605-1682. 

Browning,  Elizabeth  Barrett ;  England;  1809-1861. 

Browning,  Robert;  1812 ;  living  in  1875. 

Bruce,  Michael ;  Scotland;  1746-1767. 

Bryant,  William  Cullen;  United  States;  1794;  living  in  1875. 

Brydges,  Sir  S.  Egerton ;  England;  1762-1837^. 

Buchanan,  George;  Scotland;  1506-1582. 

Bunyan,  John;  England;  1628-1688. 

Burke,  Edmund;  Ireland;  1729-1797. 

Burnet,  Thomas  ;  England;  1635-1715. 

Burns,  Robert ;  Scotland;  1759-1796. 

Bushnell,  Horace;  United  States;  1802 ;  living  in  1875. 

Butler,  Bishop  Joseph;  England;  1692-1752. 

Butler,  Samuel ;  England ;  1600-1680. 

Byrom,  John;  England;  1691-1763. 

Byron,  Lord;  England;  1788-1824. 

Caedmon;  Anglo-Saxon;  died  680. 

Caesar,  Caius  Julius  ;  Rome  ;  100-44  B.C. 

Caird,  Rev.  Dr. ;  Scotland;  1823  ;  living  in  1875. 

Calderon  de  la  Barca,  Pedro;  Spain;  1600-1681. 

Callanan,  James  Joseph ;  Ireland;  1795-1829. 

Camoens,  Luis  de ;  Portugal;  1524-1579. 

Campbell,  Dr.  George  ;  Scotland;   1709-1796. 

Campbell,  Lord ;  Scotland;  1781-1861. 

Campbell,  Thomas ;  Scotland;  1777-1844. 

Canning,  George  ;  England;  1770-1827. 

Carew,  Thomas  ;  England;  1589-1639.  » 

Carlyle,  Thomas ;  Scotland;  1795;  living  in  1875. 

Cary,  Alice  ;  United  States  ;  1820-1871. 

Gary,  Henry;  England;  1700-1743. 

Catullus;  Rome;  born  87  B.C. ;  died  between  57  and  40  B.C. 

Cervantes  Saavedra ;  Spain;  1547-1616. 

Chalmers,  Thomas ;  Scotland;  1780-1847. 

Chamberlayne,  William ;  England;  1619-1688. 

Chambers,  Robert;  Scotland;  1802-1871. 

Chambers,  William;  Scotland;  1800. 

Chamisso,  Adelbert  von ;  Germany;  1781-1838. 

Chapman,  George  ;  England;   1557-1634. 

Chatham,  Lord ;  England;  1708-1778. 

Chatterton,  Thomas  ;  England;  1752-1770. 


vi  List  of  Authors. 

Chaucer,  Geoffrey ;  England;  1328-1400. 

Chateaubriand,  Frangois  Auguste ;  France;  1768-1848. 

Cheever,  George  B. ;  United  States  ;  1807  ;  living  in  1875. 

Cherry,  Andrew ;  England;  1762-1812. 

Chesterfield,  Lord ;  England;  1694-1773. 

Chillingworth,  William ;  England;  1602-1644. 

Chrysostom,  John ;  Antioch  ;  347-407. 

Cibber,  Colley ;  England;  1671-1737. 

Cicero,  Marcus  Tullius ;  106-43  B.C. 

Clare,  John;  England;  1793-1864. 

Clarke,  MacDonald ;  United  States  ;  1798-1842. 

Clay,  Henry;  United  States;  1777-1852. 

Coe,  Richard ;  United  States ;  published  1852. 

Coleridge,  Hartley ;  England;  1796-1849. 

Coleridge,  Samuel  Taylor;  England;  1772-1834. 

Collins,  Anne;  England;  published  1653. 

Collins,  Wilkie;  England;  1824;  living  in  1875. 

Collins,  William ;  England;  1720-1756. 

Colman,  George ;  England;  1762-1836. 

Congreve,  William;  England;  1672-1729. 

Cook,  Eliza;  England;  1817;  living  in  1875. 

Cooper,  James  Fenimore  ;  United  States;  1789-1851. 

Coppee,  Henry;  United  States;  1821;  living  in  1875. 

Corbett,  Bishop  ;  England;  1582-1635. 

Cotton,  Nathaniel ;  England;  1707-1788. 

Cousin,  Victor  ;  France;  1792. 

Cowley,  Abraham ;  England;  1618-1667. 

Cowper,  William ;  England;  1731-1800. 

Crabbe,  George  ;  England;  1754-1830. 

Craik,  George  L. ;  Scotland ;  1799-1866. 

Crashaw,  Richard ;  England;  1600-1650. 

Creasy,  E.  S. ;  England ;  living  in  1875. 

Croly,  George;  England;  1780-1860. 

Cumming,  John ;  Scotland;  1810;  living  in  1875. 

Cunningham,  Allan ;  Scotland;  1784-1842. 

Cunningham,  John ;  Ireland;  1729-1773. 

Curran,  John  Philpot ;  Ireland;  1750-1817. 

Cushing,  Caleb;  United  States;  1800. 

Cyprian ;  about  200-258. 

Dana,  Richard  Henry;  United  States;  1787. 
Daniel,  Samuel ;  England;  1569-1619. 


List  of  Authors.  vii 

Dante;  Italy;  1265-1321. 

Darwin,  Charles ;  England;  1809;  living  in  1875. 

Darwin,  Erasmus  ;  England;  1731-1802. 

Dasent,  George  Webbe ;  England;  about  1818. 

Davenant,  Sir  William ;  England;  1605-1668. 

Davies,  President  Samuel ;  United  States  ;  1724-1761. 

Davies,  Sir  John ;  England;  1570-1626. 

Davis,  Thomas ;  Ireland;  1814-1845. 

Davy,  Sir  Humphrey;  England;  1778-1829. 

Day,  Henry  N. ;  United  States  ;  1808. 

Defoe,  Daniel ;  England;  1661-1731. 

Dekker,  Thomas  E. ;  England;  died  about  1638  or  1641. 

Delisle,  Rouget;  France. 

Demosthenes ;  Greece ;  385-322  B.C. 

Denham,  Sir  John ;  England ;  «6i5~i688. 

De  Quincey,  Thomas ;  England;  1785-1859. 

De  Stae'l,  Madame;  France;  1766-1817. 

Dibdin,  Charles;  England;  1745-1814. 

Dickens,  Charles ;  England;  1812-1873. 

D'Israeli,  Benjamin;  England;  1805;  living  in  1875. 

Doane,  Bishop ;  United  States  ;  1799-1859. 

Doddridge,  Philip;  England;  1702-1751.  * 

Donne, John;  England;  1573-1631. 

Douglas,  Gawin ;  Scotland ;  1474-1522. 

Drake,  J.  Rodman;  United  States;  1795-1820. 

Drake,  Nathan ;  United  States ;  1766-1836. 

Drayton,  Michael ;  England;  1563-1631. 

Drinker,  Anna  ("Edith  May") ;  United  States  ;  published  1851. 

Dryden,  John;  England;  1631-1700. 

Dubartas,  William  de  Sallust;  1544-1590. 

Dumas,  Alexander ;  France;  1803-1872. 

Dunbar,  William ;  Scotland;  about. I46o-about  1520. 

Dwight,  Timothy ;  United  States  ;  1780-1849. 

Dyer,  John;  England;  1700-1758. 

Earle,  Bishop  ;  England;   1601-1665. 

Edgeworth,  Miss  ;  Ireland;  1767-1849. 

Edwards,  Bela  Bates ;  United  States  ;  1802-1852. 

Edwards,  Jonathan  ;  United  States ;  1703-1758. 

Elliott,  Ebenezer ;  England;  1781-1849. 

Ellsworth,  Erastus  W. ;  United  States ;  1823. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo;  United  States  ;  1803  ;  living  in  1875. 


.viii  List  of  Authors. 

Emmons,  Nathaniel ;  United  States ;  1745-1840. 
Erskine,  Thomas,  Lord ;  Scotland;  1750-1823. 
Eusebius ;  Palestine ;  about  264-about  340. 
Evans,  Christmas ;  England. 
Everett,  Edward ;  United  States ;  1794-1865. 
Ewald,  Johannes ;  Denmark;  1743-1781. 

Faber,  F.  W. ;  England;  1815-1863. 

Falconer,  William ;  England;  1730-1769. 

Fanshaw,  Sir  Richard ;  England;  1607-1666. 

Fantini;  Italy;  about  1830. 

Faval,  Paul ;  France  ;  about  1800. 

Fenner,  Cornelius  George ;  United  States ;  1822-1847. 

Fenton,  Elijah  ;  England;  1683-1730. 

Ferguson,  Robert ;  Scotland;  1751-1774. 

Ferguson,  Samuel ;  Ireland;  1805. 

"Fern,  Fanny"  (Mrs.  Parton) ;  United  States  ;  died  1872. 

Fielding,  Henry ;  England;  1707-1754. 

Fields,  James  T. ;  United  States;  born  1820. 

Flechier,  Esprit ;  France;  1632-1710. 

Fletcher,  Giles  ;  England;  1588-1623. 

Fletcher, John ;  England;  1576-1625. 

Fontenelle,  Bernard  le  Bovier  de  ;  France ;  1657-1757. 

Foote,  Samuel ;  England;  1720-1777. 

Ford,  John  ;  England;  1586-1639. 

Fosdick,  William  W.;  United  States;  born  1822. 

Foster,  John;  England;  1770-1843. 

Fox,  Charles  James;  England;  1749-1806. 

Fox,  W.  Johnson  ;  England;  1786-1864. 

Francis,  Sir  Philip  ("Junius");  England;  1740-1818. 

Franklin,  Benjamin ;  United  States ;  1706-1790. 

Freiligrath,  Ferdinand ;  Germany;  born  1810. 

Freneau,  Philip ;  United  States  ;  1752-1832. 

Frere,  John  Hookham  ;  England;  1769-1846. 

Froude,  James  Anthony ;  England;  1818;  living  in  1875. 

Fuller, Thomas ;  England;  1608-1661. 

Gall,  Richard ;  Scotland;  1776-1801. 
Gallagher,  W.  D. ;  United  States  ;  1808. 
Garrick,  David ;  England;  1716-1779. 
Gay,  John  ;  England;  i688-'i732. 
Gibbon,  Edward ;  England;  1737-1794. 


List  of  Authors.  ix 

Gibbons,  Thomas  ;  England;  1720-1785. 
Gilfillan,  George  ;  Scotland  ;  1813. 
Glover,  Richard ;  England;  1712-1785. 
Godwin,  William  ;  England;  1756-1836. 
Goethe,  John  Wolfgang  von  ;  1749-1832. 
Goldsmith,  Oliver  ;  England;  1728-1774. 
Gower,  John ;  England  ;  about  1325-1408. 
Grahame,  James  ;  Scotland;   1790-1842. 
Grant,  Sir  Robert ;  Scotland;   1785-1838. 
Grattan,  Henry ;  Ireland;  1746-1794. 
Gray, Thomas;  England;  1716-1771. 
Greene,  Robert ;  England;  about  1560-1592. 
Gregory  the  First,  Pope  ;  Italy ;  540-604. 
Griffin,  Edward  D. ;  United  States  ;  1768-1820. 
Griswold,  Bishop  ;  United  States  ;  1766-1843. 
Grote,  George ;  England;  1794-1871. 
Guarini;  Italy;  1537-1612. 
Guizot;  France;  1787-1874. 
Guthrie,  Thomas ;  Scotland;  1800-1873. 

Habington,  William ;  England  ;  1605-1654. 

Haliburton,  Judge ;  Canada;  1797-1865.  * 

Hall,  Dr.  John  ;  Ireland;  living  in  1875. 

Hall,  Robert;  England;  1764-1831. 

Halleck,  Fitzgreen ;  United  States  ;  1790-1869. 

Halpine,  Charles  G.  ("Miles  O'Reilly") ;  Ireland;  1829-1869. 

Hare,  Julius  Charles  ;  England;  1795-1855. 

Harms,  Klaus;  Germany;  1778-1855. 

Harrington,  John  (the  elder) ;  England;  1534-1582. 

Harrington,  Sir  John  (the  younger) ;  England;  1561-1612. 

Hart,  John  S. ;  United  States  ;  living  in  1875. 

Harte,  Francis  Bret ;  United  States  ;  1837;  living  in  1875. 

Hawkesworth,  John ;  England;  1715-1773. 

Hawthorne,  Nathaniel ;  United  States  ;  1804-1864. 

Hayley,  William  ;  England;  1745-1820. 

Hazlitt,  William  ;  England;  1778-1830. 

Heber,  Reginald ;  England;  1783-1826. 

Heeren,  Arnold  H.  L. ;  Germany ;  1760-1842. 

Heiberg,  Johann  Ludvig ;  Denmark;  1791. 

Hemans,  Mrs. ;  England;  1794-1835. 

Henry  IV. ;  France;  1553-1610. 

Henry,  Matthew ;  England;   1662-1714. 


x  List  of  Authors. 

Henry,  Patrick ;  United  States  ;  1736-1799. 

Henryson,  Robert ;  Scotland;  1 5th  century. 

Herbert,  George ;  Wales;  1593-1632. 

Herbert,  William  ;  England;  1778-1847. 

Herder,  Johann  Godfrey  von  ;  Germany;  77^/1-1803. 

Herodotus  ;  Greece ;  484-about  424  B.C. 

Herrick,  Robert ;  England;  1591-1674. 

Hervey,  James ;  England;  1713-1758. 

Hervey,  T.  K. ;  England ;  1799-1859. 

Hey  wood,  Thomas  ;  England  -  died  about  1650. 

Higginson,  Colonel ;  United  States  ;  living  in  1875. 

Hill,  Aaron;  England;  1685-1750. 

Hill,  Rowland ;  England;  1744-1833. 

Hillhouse,  James  A. ;  United  States  ;  1789-1841. 

Hoffman,  Charles  Fenno  ;  United  States ;  1806. 

Hogarth,  William ;  England;  1697  or  1698-1764. 

Hogg,  James;  Scotland;  1772-1835. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell ;  United  States  ;  1809 ;  living  in  1875. 

Home,  John;  Scotland;  1724-1808. 

Hood,  Thomas;  England;   1798-1845. 

Hooker,  Thomas  ;  England;  1586-1647. 

Hope,  Thomas;  England;  about  1770-1831. 

Horace ;  Rome  ;  65-27  B.C. 

Hosmer,  W.  H.  C. ;  United  States ;  1814. 

Howe,  John;  England;  1630-1705. 

Howitt,  Mary;  England;   1800. 

Hoyt,  Ralph;  United  States  ;  1810. 

Hudson,  Henry  N. ;  United  States ;  1814. 

Hugo,  Victor ;  France  ;  1802. 

Hume,  David;  Scotland;  1711-1776. 

Humphrey,  President;  United  States;  died  about  1800. 

Hunt,  Leigh;  England;  1784-1859. 

Hunter,  Mrs.;  England;  1741-1821. 

Ingelow,  Jean  ;  England;  1830;  living  in  1875. 

Ingeman,  Bernhard  S. ;  Denmark;  1789. 

Ireland,  Samuel ;  England  ;  born  early  in  the  i8th  century,  died  in  iSoo. 

Irving,  Washington ;  United  States ;  1783-1859. 

James,  John  Angell ;  England;  1785-1859. 
Jameson,  Mrs. ;  England;  1797-1860. 
Jerrold,  Douglas ;  England;  1803-1857. 


List  of  Authors.  xi 

Johnson,  Samuel ;  England;   1709-1784. 
Jones,  Sir  William  ;  England;  1746-1794. 
Jonson,  Ben;  England;  1573  or  1574-1637. 

Keats,  John;  England;  1796-1821. 
Keble,  John  ;  England;  1792-1866. 
Kent,  Chancellor ;  United  States ;  1763-1847. 
Kingsley,  Charles ;  England;  1819-1875. 
Knowles,  Herbert ;  England;  1798-1817. 
Knowles,  J.  Sheridan  ;  Ireland;  1784-1862. 
Korner,  Charles  Theodore ;  Germany;  1791-1813. 
Kosegarten,  Ludvig  T. ;  Germany;  1758-1818. 
Kossuth,  Lajos  ;  Hungary  ;  1802  ;  living  in  1875. 
Kyd,  Thomas ;  England ;  living  in  1588. 

Lamarck,  Jean  B.  P. ;  France  ;  1744-1829. 

Lamartine,  Alphonse  de ;  France;  1792. 

Lamb,  Charles ;  England;  1775-1834. 

Langlande,  William ;  England ;  1332-about  1400. 

Landon,  Letitia  Elizabeth ;  England;  1802-1838. 

Landor,  W.  Savage ;  England;  1775-1864. 

Lamed,  Sylvester ;  United  States ;  1796-1820. 

Latimer,  Hugh ;  England;  about  1490-1555. 

Lee,  Nathaniel ;  England;  1651-1692. 

Leland,  John;  England;  1691-1766. 

Leslie,  Charles  ;  England;  1794-1859. 

Lestrange,  Sir  Roger  ;  England ;  1616-1704. 

Lever,  Charles  ;  Ireland  ;  1809-1872. 

Lewis,  Matthew  Gregory  ;  England ;  1775-1818. 

Leyden,John;  Scotland;  1775-1811. 

Lillo,  George  ;  England  ;  1693-1739. 

Lindsay  (Lord),  A.  W.  Crawford ;  Scotland;  1812 ;  living  in  1875. 

Lindsay,  Sir  David  ;  Scotland;  born  about  1490,  died  bet.  1555  and  1567. 

Livingston,  David  ;  Scotland;   1815-1873. 

Locke,  John  ;  England;  1632-1704. 

Lockhart,  John  Gibson  ;  Scotland ;  1792-1854. 

Lodge, Thomas  ;  England;   1556-1625. 

Logan,  John;  Scotland;  1748-1788. 

Longfellow,  Henry  Wads  worth ;  United  States ;  1807;  living  in  1875. 

Longinus  ;  Greece  ;  about  213-273. 

Lovelace,  Richard ;  England;  1618-1658. 


xii  List  of  Authors. 

Lover,  Samuel ;  Ireland;  1797-1866. 

Lowe,  John ;  Scotland;   1750-1798. 

Lowell,  James  Russell;  United  States;  1819;  living  in  1875. 

Lowell,  Prof. ;  England  ;  living  in  1875. 

Loyson,  Charles  (Pere  Hyacinthe) ;  France  ;  living  in  1875. 

Luther,  Martin  ;  Germany;  1483-1546. 

Lyell,  Sir  Charles  ;  Scotland;  1797-1875. 

Lydgate,  John  ;  England;  born  about  1375,  died  about  1461. 

Lyly,  John  (the  Euphuist) ;  England  ;  born  about  1553,  died  about  1600. 

Lyttelton,  Lord  ;  England;  1709-1773. 

Lytton  (Lord),  Edward  Bulwer  ;  England  ;  1805-1873. 

Lytton,  Robert  Bulwer  ("  Owen  Meredith") ;  England;  living  in  1875. 

Macaulay,  Lord ;  England;  1800-1859. 

Maccarthy,  Denis  Florence  ;  Ireland;  published  1850. 

Macchiavelli,  Nicolo  ;  Italy;  1469-1527. 

Macdonald,  George  ;  Scotland  ;  living  in  1875. 

Mackay,  Charles  ;  Scotland;  born  1812. 

Mackenzie,  Henry ;  Scotland;  1745-1831. 

Mackintosh,  Sir  James  ;  Scotland;  1766-1832. 

Maclellan,  Isaac  ;  United  States  ;  1810. 

Macpherson,  James  ;  Scotland;  1738-1796. 

Mandeville,  Sir  John  ;  England;  about  1300-1372. 

Mangan,  James  Clarence  ;  England  ;  living  in  1875. 

Mansfield,  Lord  ;  Scotland;  1705-1793. 

Marlowe,  Christopher  ;  England;  1564-1593. 

Marsh,  George  P. ;  United  States  ;  1801. 

Marston,  John  ;  England ;  born  about  1570,  died  about  1634. 

Martial ;  Rome  ;  born  43,  died  about  104. 

Martineau,  Miss  ;  England;  1802. 

Marvell,  Andrew ;  England;  1620-1678. 

Mason,  John  Mitchell ;  United  States  ;  1770-1829. 

Mason,  William ;  England;   1725-1797. 

Massey,  Gerald  ;  England  ;   1828  ;  living  in  1875. 

Massillon,  Jean  Baptiste  ;  France  ;  1663-1742. 

Massinger,  Philip  ;  England;  1584-1640. 

Mennes,  Sir  John  ;  England;  1598-1671. 

Mickle,  William  J. ;  Scotland  ;  1734-1788. 

Miller,  Hugh;  Scotland;   1802-1856. 

Miller,  Joaquin  ;  United  States  ;  living  in  1875. 

Milman,  Henry  Hart ;  England;  1791-1868. 

Milner,  Joseph  ;  England;  1744-1797. 

Milton,  John  ;  England ;  1608-1674. 


List  of  Authors.  xiii 

Minto,  William  ;  Scotland ;  living  in  1875. 

Mitford,  Miss  ;  England;  1786-1855. 

Moir,  David  Macbeth ;  Scotland;  1798-1851. 

Moliere,  Jean  Baptiste  Poquelin  de  ;  France  ;  1622-1673. 

Monboddo,  Lord ;  Scotland;  1714-1799. 

Montague  ;  France  ;  1533-1592. 

Montaigne,  Michael  de ;  France;  1533-1592. 

Montgomery,  James  ;  Scotland;  1771-1854. 

Montgomery,  Robert ;  England;  1807-1855. 

Moore,  Thomas ;  Ireland;  1779-1852. 

More,  Hannah;  England;  1745-1833. 

More,  Sir  Thomas ;  England;  1480-1535. 

Morris,  G.  P. ;  United  States  ;  1802-1864. 

Morris,  William  ;  England;  1830;  living  in  1875. 

Mosheim,  Johann  Laurenz  ;' Germany  ;  1694-1755. 

Motherwell,  William  ;  Scotland  ;  1797-1835. 

Motley,  John  Lothrop  ;  United  States  ;  1814;  living  in  1875. 

Mudie,  Robert ;  Scotland;  1777-1842. 

Mulock,  Dinah  Maria  ;  England  ;  1826  ;  living  in  1875. 

Nash,  Thomas  ;  England  ;  1558-1600. 
Norton,  Mrs. ;  England  ;  1808. 

Oehlenschlaeger,  Adam  ;  Scandinavia  ;  1779-1850. 

Olin,  Stephen  ;  United  States  ;  1797-1851. 

Opie,  Mrs. ;  England;  1769-1853. 

Osgood,  Mrs.  Frances  Sargent ;  United  States  ;  about  1812-1850. 

Ossian  ;  Scotland  ;  in  2d  or  3d  century. 

Overbury,  Sir  Thomas  ;  1581-1631. 

Owen,  John  ;  England  ;  about  1560-1622. 

Paine,  Thomas  ;  England;  1737-1809. 

Paley,  William  ;  England;  1743-1805. 

Palgrave,  Sir  Francis  Turner  ;  England  ;  1788-1861. 

Paludan-Muller,  Frederic  ;  Denmark;  1809. 

Parnell, Thomas  ;  Ireland;  1679-1718. 

Parr,  Samuel ;  England;  1747-1825. 

Parsons,  Thomas  W. ;  United  States  ;  1819. 

Patmore,  Coventry  ;  England  ;  1823. 

Paulcling,  J.  Kirke  ;  United  States  ;   1779-1860. 

Payson,  Edward  ;  United  States  ;  1783-1827. 

Peacham,  Henry  ;  England  ;  published  1577. 


xiv  List  of  Authors. 

Pearson,  John ;  England  ;  1612-1686. 

Percival,  James  Gates ;  United  States  ;  1795-1856. 

Percy,  Thomas ;  England;  1728-1811. 

Perrault,  Charles  ;  France;  1628-1703. 

Pierpont,  John;  United  States ;  1785-1866. 

Pike,  Albert ;  United  States  ;  1809. 

Pitt,  William  ;  England;   1759-1806. 

Plato ;  Greece ;  B.C.  429-348. 

Plautus ;  Rome  ;  about  254-184  B.C. 

Plunkett,  William  C. ;  Ireland;  1764-1854. 

Poe,  Edgar  Allan;  United  States;  1811-1849. 

Pollok,  Robert ;  Scotland;  1799-1827. 

Pope,  Alexander ;  England;  1688-1744. 

Person,  Richard ;  England;  1759-1808. 

Praed,  Winthrop  Mackworth ;  England;  1802-1839. 

Prescott,  William  Hickling;  United  States;  1796-1859. 

Prior,  Matthew  ;  England;  1664-1721. 

Proctor,  Adelaide  ;  England;  1825-1864. 

Proctor,  Bryan  Waller  ("  Barry  Cornwall") ;  England  ;  about  1790. 

Publius  Syrus  ;  flourished  about  B.C.  42. 

Puttenham,  George ;  England;  about  1529-1600. 

Quarles,  Francis  ;  England;  1592-1644. 
Quintilian  ;  Latin  ;  born  about  40,  died  about  118. 

Radcliffe,  Mrs. ;  England;  1764-1823. 

Ramsay,  Allan  ;  Scotland;  1685-1758. 

Ramsay,  Rev.  Dean  ;  Scotland ;  living  in  1875. 

Randolph,  John  ;  United  States ;  1773-1833. 

Raphael;  Italy;  1483-1520. 

Read,  Thomas  Buchanan  ;  United  States  ;  1822. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua ;  England;  1723-1792. 

Richardson,  Samuel ;  England;  1689-1767. 

Richter,  Jean  Paul  F. ;  Germany  ;  1763-1825. 

Robertson,  William  ;  Scotland;  1721-1793. 

Rochester  (Lord),  John  Wilmot ;  England;  1647-1680. 

Rogers,  Henry  ;  England  ;  about  1814. 

Rogers,  Samuel ;  England  ;  1763-1855. 

Rossetti,  Dante  Gabriel ;  England. 

Ruskin,  John  ;  England  ;  1819  ;  living  in  1875. 

Russell,  William  Howard  ;  Ireland;  1821. 

Ryle,  J.  C.;  England  ;  1816. 


List  of  Authors.  xv 

Sackville,  Thomas,  Earl  of  Dorset ;  England ;  1527-1608. 

Sallust;  Latin;  B.C.  86-34. 

Sappho  ;  Greece  ;  probably  B.C.  630-570. 

Saurin,  Jacques  ;  France;  1677-1730. 

Saxe,  John  Godfrey ;  United  States  ;  1816;  living  in  1875. 

Schiller,  Johann  Christoph  Friedrich  von;  Germany;  1759-1805. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter ;  Scotland;  1741-1832. 

Seed,  Jeremiah  ;  England;  died  1747. 

Seneca;  Spain  (Latin) ;  about  B.C.  61. 

Shakespeare,  William ;  England;  1564-1616. 

Shaw,  John  ;  United  States ;  1778. 

Shelley,  Percy  Bysshe  ;  England;  1792-1822. 

Shenstone,  William ;  England;  1714-1768. 

Sheridan,  Richard  Brinsley  ;  Ireland;  1751-1816. 

Sherlock,  William ;  England;  about  1641-1707. 

Shirley,  James ;  England;  1679-1717. 

Sidney,  Algernon  ;  England;  1622-1683. 

Sidney,  Edwin ;  England;  living  in  1875. 

Sidney,  Sir  Philip  ;  England  ;  1554-1586. 

Sigourney,  Mrs. ;  United  States  ;  1791-1865. 

Skinner,  John  ;  Scotland;  1721-1807. 

Smith,  Alexander  ;  Scotland;  1830-1867. 

Smith,  Horace  ;  England;  1779-1849. 

Smith,  James;  England;  1776-1839. 

Smith,  Seba  ;  United  States  ;  1792-1868. 

Smith,  Sydney  ;  England  ;  1769-1845. 

Smith,  Dr.  William ;  England;  living  in  1875. 

Smollett,  Tobias ;  Scotland;  1721-1771. 

Socrates;  Greece;  B.C.  468-399. 

South,  Robert ;  England;  1633-1716. 

Southern, Thomas  ;  Ireland;  1660-1746. 

Southey,  Mrs. ;  England;  1787-1854. 

Southey,  Robert ;  England;  1774-1843. 

Souvestre,  Emile  ;  France  ;  1806-1854. 

Spencer,  Herbert ;  England  ;  living  in  1875. 

Spencer,  W.  R. ;  England  ;  1769-1834. 

Spenser,  Edmund ;  England;  1553-1599. 

Sprague,  Charles ;  United  States ;  1791. 

Sprague,  William  Buell ;  United  States ;  1795. 

Spurgeon,  Charles  Haddon ;  England;  1834;  living  in  1875. 

Stedman,  Edmund  Clarence  ;  United  States ;  1837;  living  in  1875. 

Steele,  Sir  Richard ;  Ireland;  1675-1729. 


xvi  List  of  Authors. 

Stephens,  John  Lloyd ;  United  States  ;  1805-1852. 

Sterling,  John  ;  Scotland;  1806-1844. 

Sterne,  Lawrence  ;  England;  1713-1768. 

Stevens,  G.  A. ;  England ;  about  1720-1784. 

Stewart,  Dugald  ;  Scotland;  1753-1828. 

Still,  John;  England;   1543-1607. 

Stoddard,  Mrs. ;  United  States  ;  1787-1820. 

Stoddard,  Thomas  Tod  ;  Scotland  ;  living  in  1875. 

Story,  Joseph  ;  United  States  ;  1779-1845. 

Stowe,  Mrs.  Harriet  Beecher ;  United  States  ;  1812  ;  living  in  1875. 

Street,  Alfred  B.  ;  United  States  ;  1812  ;  living  in  1875. 

Strickland,  Miss  Agnes  ;  England  ;  1806-1874. 

Suckling,  Sir  John  ;  England  ;  1608-1641. 

Sully,  Duke  of;  France  ;  1559-1641. 

Superville ;  France. 

Surrey,  Earl  of,  Henry  Howard ;  England  ;  1518-1547. 

S urtr ess,  Robert ;  England;  1779-1834. 

Suso,  Heinrich ;  Germany;  probably  1300-1365. 

Swain,  Charles  ;  England;  1803;  living  in  1875. 

Swift, Jonathan ;  Ireland;  1667-1745. 

Swinburne,  Algernon  Charles ;  England;  1843;  living  in  1875. 

Sylvester,  Joshua ;  England;  1563-1618. 

Sylvester,  Matthew ;  England;  died  1708. 

Tacitus,  Caius  Cornelius  ;  Latin ;  born  about  50,  died  after  117. 

Taina,  H.  A. ;  France;  living  in  1875. 

Talfourd, Thomas  Noon ;  England;  1795-1854. 

Talleyrand-Perigord,  Charles  Maurice ;  France;  1754-1838. 

Tannahill,  Robert ;  Scotland;  1774-1810. 

Tasso,  Bernardo ;  Italy;  1493-1569. 

Tassoni,  Alessandro  ;  Italy;  1565-1635. 

Taylor,  Bayard ;  United  States ;  1825;  living  in  1875. 

Taylor,  Isaac  ;  England;  1787-1865. 

Taylor,  Jane;  England;  1783-1824. 

Taylor, Jeremy ;  England;  1613-1667. 

Tenant,  William ;  Scotland;  1784-1848. 

Tennyson,  Alfred ;  England ;  1810 ;  living  in  1875. 

Tennyson,  Frederick ;  England. 

Terence;  Rome;  about  195-159  B.C. 

Tertullian, Quintus  Septimius  Florens  ;  Latin;  b.  about  1 60,  d.  bet.  220-240. 

Thackeray,  William  Makepeace  ;  England;  1811-1863. 

Theocritus  ;  Greece  ;  flourished  about  270  B.C. 


List  of  Authors.  xvii 

Theremin ;  Germany ;  died  lately. 

Thierry,  Jacques  N.  A. ;  France;  1795-1856. 

Thiers,  Louis  Adolphe  ;  France  ;  1797  ;  living  in  1875. 

Thorn,  William ;  Scotland;  1799-1850. 

Thomson,  James  ;  Scotland;  1700-1748. 

Thorpe,  T.  B. ;  United  States  ;  living  in  1875. 

Tilton,  Theodore  ;  United  States  ;  living  in  1875. 

Titian;  Italy;  1477-1576. 

Tooke,  John  Home ;  England;  1736-1812. 

Toplady,  Augustus  M. ;  England;  1740-1788. 

Tourneur,  Peter  le  ;  France  ;  1736-1788. 

Trench,  Richard  Chenevix ;  England;  1807;  living  in  1875. 

Trollope,  Anthony ;  England;  1815;  living  in  1875. 

Trumbull,  John ;  United  States ;  1750-1831. 

Tuckerman,  Henry  Theodore ;  1813  ;  living  in  1875. 

Tupper,  Martin  Farquhar ;  England;  1810;  living  in  1875. 

Tyndale,  Professor ;  England;  living  in  1875. 

Valdez,  John  Melendez  ;  Spain;  1754-1817. 
Vaughan,  Henry ;  England;  1621-1695. 
Veronese,  Paul ;  Italy;  about  1530-1588. 
Vinet,  Alexander ;  Switzerland;  1797-1847. 
Virgil,  Publius  Maro ;  Italy ;  70-19  B.C. 
Volpi,  John  Anthony ;  Italy;  1514-1588. 
Voltaire;  France;  1694-1778. 

Waller,  Edmund ;  England;  1605-1687. 

Walpole,  Horace ;  England;  1717-1797. 

Walpole,  Sir  Robert ;  England;  1676-1745. 

Watts,  Isaac;  England;  1674-1748. 

Webster,  Daniel ;  United  States  ;  1782-1852. 

Webster,  John  ;  England ;  flourished  1633. 

Wesley,  Charles  ;  England;  1708-1788. 

Wesley,  John ;  England ;  1703-1791. 

Wesley,  Samuel ;  England;  about  1662-1735. 

Whately,  Richard ;  England;  1787-1863. 

Whewell,  William;  England;  1795-1866. 

Whipple,  Edwin  P. ;  United  States ;  1819. 

White,  Blanco ;  Spain;  1773-1840. 

White,  Henry  Kirke  ;  England;  1785-1806. 

Whitfield,  George ;  England;  1714-1770. 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf;  United  States  ;  1807;  living  in  1875. 

B 


xviii  List  of  Authors. 

Wilde,  Richard ;  United  States ;  1789-1847. 

Willis, Nathaniel  Parker ;  United  States;  1807-1867. 

Wilson, Alexander ;  Scotland;  1766-1813. 

Wilson,  John  (" Christopher  North ") ;  Scotland;  1785-1854. 

Winther,  Rasmus  V.  C.  F. ;  Denmark ;  1796. 

Winthrop,  R.  C. ;  United  States ;  1809 ;  living  in  1875. 

Wirt,  William ;  United  States  ;  1772-1834. 

Wither,  George  ;  England;  1588-1667. 

Wolcott,  John  ("  Peter  Pindar  ") ;  England ;  1 738-1819. 

Wolfe,  Charles  ;  Ireland;  1791-1823. 

Wordsworth,  William ;  England;  1770-1850. 

Wormius, Olaf;  Denmark;  1588-1654. 

Worsley,  Philip  Stanhope  ;  England;  died  1866. 

Wotton,  Sir  Henry  ;  England;  1568-1639. 

Wycliffe,  John  de  ;  England ;  about  1324-1384. 

Young, Edward ;  England;  1684-1765. 
Young,  Charlotte  ;  England;  living  in  1875, 


TABLE   OF   CONTENTS. 


INTRODUCTION. 

Object  of  this  Volume. — Power,  Beauty,  Wealth,  and  Wit  of  Language. — 
Survey  of  American  and  English  Writers. — Figurative  Language,  in 
above  Two  Hundred  Figures. — No  Literature  ever  before  so  Surveyed. — 
Author  Claims  entire  Originality. — Old  yet  Immortal  Flowers,  but  a 
New  Ribbon. — Of  utmost  Use  to  all  who  Speak  or  Compose. — No  good 
Treatise  on  Figures  in  our  Language. — No  good  Distinction  between 
Trope  and  Metonymy. — What  in  the  World  is  a  Hypocatastasis  ? — A 
Sweet  Volume  given  away  by  its  Papa. — Wonderful  Number  of  Figures. 
— Hard  Names  they  have. — Ridiculed  by  Addison. — Names  will  be  Hu- 
manized.— Definition  of  a  Figure. — The  Dawn  and  the  Twilight. — A 
Mermaid  of  a  City  discovered  by  Washington  Irving. — Barbarossa  De- 
claims.— A  Water-kelpie  Shrieks. — Sermon  by  Dr.  Chalmers. — Criti- 
cism on  his  Style. — Sir  Thomas  More's  Fool. — Earliest  Prose  published 
in  England. — Figures  Needful  in  Religion. — Language  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment Described.— How  Figures  wear  Old  and  get  Young. — Blunder  by 
Lord  Macaulay. — Daisy  and  Skylark. — Style  of  Jesus. — French  Oratory. 
— Felicities  by  Beecher. — Enoch  Arden. — Jokes  by  Jerrold. — Thunder- 
ous Prose  by  Milton. — Pennsylvania  Dutch. — The  Bird  in  the  Bosom. 
— Six  great  Points. — Claims  of  Greek  and  Latin,  and  one  good  Reason 
Why.  —  Music  .in  our  Speech.  —  Milton's  Melodies  Proved.  —  Tarn 
O'Shanter  Croons. — Three  Books  necessary  in  this  Volume :  Bible,  Para- 
dise Lost,  Shakespeare. — Panegyric  on  Monosyllables. — Beautiful  Quota- 
tions. —  How  Figures  aid  Invention. — Dr.  Mott's  admirable  Sermon  : 
the  Soil,  the  Seed,  the  Sower. — Sublimity  and  Poesy  of  the  Christ. — 
Christ's  Death-mantle Page  xxxvii 


CHAPTER   I. 

FIGURES   OF    ETYMOLOGY. — PART   FIRST. 

Three  Kinds  of  Figures  :  In  Etymology,  or  Spelling;  in  Syntax,  or  Construc- 
tion; in  Rhetoric,  or  Application,  in  Obedience  to  Moods  of  Mind. — I. 
Aphseresis,  or  Front-cut. — In  Allan  Ramsay,  Burns,  Tannahill. — Jerrold 
Cuts  up  a  Scoundrel. — Bret  Harte  goes  down  in  'Frisco. — Blind  Harry. 
— Death  of  the  Douglas. — Full  Account  of  John  Gower. — He  Great  in 
Lifeless  Doggrel. — First  Parliamentary  Speech  in  English  was  in  1362. 


xx  Table  of  Contents. 

— Man's  Wealth,  Poverty,  Youth,  and  Old  Age. — Why  Treason  can 
never  Prosper. — A  Strain  by  the  Author. — Sharp  and  Sweet. — George 
III.  and  his  Hard  Head. — Morris  and  Campbell  Copy  the  One  from  the 
Other. — Robin  Hood  under  the  Greenwood  Tree. — A  Lyric  of  London. 
— Four  Answers  in  Four  Minutes. — Death  of  a  Son. — Cupid  Defeated 
by  a  Young  Lady. — How  Parents  live  over  again  in  their  Children. — A 
Flirt  Discarded. — Southern's  Classic  Lines  ;  and  One  by  Lord  Burkhurst. 
— Disastrous  One  Hundred  and  Ninety  Years  between  Chaucer  and 
Spenser. — Pope  Described. — Specimen  of  his  Wit. — Epigram  on  a  Block- 
head.— Shakespeare's  Death  in  the  Two  Sixteens. — Four  opposite  De- 
vices in  Figures. — Dr.  Watts  Defends  his  Small  Size. — Story  of  Washing- 
ton by  Washington  Irving. — Compliment  to  Miss  Edgeworth. — II.,  III., 
IV.,V.  Syncope,  or  Mid-cut ;  Synaeresis ;  Crasis  ;  Synezesis. — Miss  War- 
ing gives  a  pretty  Example. — Condoling  with  Mamma. — Noble  Line  by 
Dekker. — Bitter  Sarcasm  by  Burns. — Smooth  Verse  by  Chamberlayne. 
— Epigram  on  Author  of  "  Hudibras." — Sonnet  on  Shakespeare. — The 
Men  of  Genius  Contemporaries  with  Shakespeare,  Fourteen  mentioned. 
— Example  of  Homeliness  in  the  Pulpit  that  can  not  be  forgotten. — 
Knocking  an  Eye  out,  by  Curran  the  Orator. — An  Irish  Poacher  Dis- 
covered among  the  Constellations. — VI.  Apocope,  or  End-cut. — Curran 
Treated  as  a  Little  Cratur. — Critique  on  "  Hudibras." — Sam  Patch,  Sam 
Weller,  and  Sam  Slick.— Mr.  Bear  finds  his  Match.— My  poor  Pol,  Go 
in  the  Pi. — Praise  of  the  Doric,  the  Scottish  Dialect. — Bold  Instance  in 
Crashaw  of  Cutting  off. — Fletcher,  Marvel,  Keats,  and  the  Author. — 
Potates  and  Chestnuts.  —  Fall  of  the  Leaf.  —  A  Daring  and  Graceful 
Illustration. — Sonnet  by  an  Archbishop. — The  Sun  Clouded. — Nebu- 
chadnezzar Depicted. — Style  of  Shakespeare. — Burke  Defines  Majesty 
Stripped  of  its  Externals. — Direction  how  to  Study  this  delightful 
Subject 55 


CHAPTER   II. 

FIGURES   OF   ETYMOLOGY. — PART   SECOND. 

Excellent  Advice  to  a  Young  Man  by  William  Cullen  Bryant. — Another  by 
Marsh  and  by  your  Author. — VII.  Prosthesis,  or  Prefixing. — Chaucer's 
Favorite  Flower  and  Burns's. — Poesy's  Skylarks  and  Devotion's  Bells. 
—  Pocahontas  Daguerreotyped.  —  Hurricane  at  Midnight.  —  Chaucer's 
Portrait  of  a  Nun. — Four  Eras  of  English  Poetry. — Piers  the  Plowman 
warmly  Lauded ;  as  also  the  "  Faerie  Queene." — How  the  Old  Testament 
grows  as  Age  grows. — VIII.  Epenthesis,  or  Insertion. — American  and 
Scotch  Humor  highly  Commended. — They  are  Accounted  for. — Philoso- 
phy of  Fun. — A  Candidate's  Creed. — An  Attempt  to  Reorganize  a  Wife. 
— How  to  do  it  Best. — IX.  Paragoge,  or  Annexation. — No  Preachee  and 
Floggee  both. — Endearing  Effects  of  aj  in  Courting. — Of  Thumping  her 
Deary,  by  a  Lady. — A  Portrait  of  a  Schoolma. — Milton's  supremely 
beautiful  Word. — Lubricating  the  Joke. — Thumpaty,  Glurnpaty,  and 
Stumpaty. — A  Bullying  Lawyer  Outdone. — Taking  "No"  out  of  the  Com- 


Table  of  Contents.  xxi 

mandments  and  Putting  it  in  the  Creed. — Piers  the  Plowman  Praised 
very  highly  a  Second  Time,  and  Quoted. — X.  Diaeresis,  or  Separation. — 
Milton's  "  Comus." — Speech  of  a  Guardian  Angel. — Milton's  Exquisite 
Style. — The  Palace  and  the  Hut. — XI.  Tmesis,  Diacope,  or  Cutting. — 
Power  of  Curiosity. — Sublimity  of  Law. — Account  of  Milton,  Hooker, 
and  Ruskin's  Prose ;  of  Macaulay's. — XII.  Metathesis,  or  Twisting. — 
One  who  hain't  got  an  Umbrella. — Ike  and  Mrs.  Partington. — The  Old 
Lady's  Oilfactories. — Dr.  Holmes  on  Widdahs. — A  Pig  Squales  like  an 
Infidel.  —  XIII.  Intentional  Misspelling.  —  Account  of  Henry  Kirke 
White. — The  Land  of  the  Toomeniaitches. — Thackeray  Lisps  Cleverly. 
—A  Lapland  Witch.— XIV.  Full  Syllabification.— Curds  under  a  Tree 
Served  up  by  Skakespeare. — XV.  Dialect. — In  the  Stillness  o'  the 
Night.  —  XVI.  The  Alphabetic,  a  Newly  Invented  Rhyme  by  Punch. 
— XVII.  Combination. — The  Cleek-um-inn. — Do-the-boys  Hall. — The 
Wooden  Spoon  and  the  Treacle. — A  go-to-meetin'  Coat. — The  Helter- 
skelter-ding-dong-horse-and-foot  Style. — Account  of  Addison. — Anec- 
dote of  Him.  —  XVIII.  Accentuation.  —  By  Two  great  Bards,  and  by 
a  Talented  One.  —  Catholicity  of  Taste  will  be  Cultured  in  this  Vol- 
ume.— Pope  and  Macaulay  Defended. — Wordsworth,  Crabbe,  Burns, 
Shakespeare,  and  Milton  Characterized. — Debate  between  Byron  and 
Bowles 75 

CHAPTER   III. 

FIGURES    OF    SYNTAX. — PART   FIRST. 

Need  of  Figures  of  Syntax. — We  are  Recording,  not  Inventing  Phenomena. 
— Study  of  Language  is  Study  of  Mind. — XIX.  Ellipsis,  or  Omission. — 
Style  without  this  would  be  Chains,  not  WTings. — How  Women  are  the 
Opposite  of  Clocks. — Pope  meets  a  Retort. — Pun  by  Jerrold. — Jemmy 
Wright  has  just  Popped  out. — Poetical  Recipe  for  Boiling  Chicken. — 
Another  Strain  by  your  Author. — Anecdote  of  a  Mad  Poet. — Picture  of 
Charles  XII.  of  Sweden. — New  Translation  of  a  Hebrew  Prophet. — 
Call  for  New  Version  of  Bible.— Sallust  Criticised.— Railway  Collision. 
— Sad  Death  of  Edgar  A.  Poe. — Caesar  Slain. — Scene  in  Grave-yard. — 
Shipwreck  in  Bay  of  Biscay. — The  Gray  Forest  Eagle. — Military  Fame. 
— Moon  in  Storm,  by  King  Alfred. — Anecdotes  of  Ben  Jonson.— Proof 
of  his  Pellucid  Style.— Saying  "  Bo  "  to  a  Goose. — Letter  Addressed  to 
"  Mr.  Newton,  Europe." — Disrespect  is  Highest  Respect. — A  Husband 
and  a  Wife  Differ. — What  is  a  Prosist  ? — King  Francis  and  the  Lions. — 
Able  Critique  on  Milton's  Style. — Boyd's  Notes  Recommended. — How 
to  Acquire  Accuracy  in  Words. — Mr.  Vagabond  Addressed. — Twenty- 
nine  Varieties  of  Ellipsis. — Dana's  Book  of  Poetry  Commended;  and 
also  Bryant's. — "Go  where  is  de  most  Devil." — Epitaph  on  Charles  II. 
— The  only  Secret  a  Woman  can  Keep. — A  Statuesque  Group  by  Chau- 
cer.—To  the  Song-sparrow. — The  Education  given  by  Mountains. — A 
Far  View  that  can  be  Seen.— Milton's  Theology  Defended.— Addison's 
Praise  of  Milton.— A  Mother  Offering  her  Son  to  the  Country.— Grace 


xxii  Table  of  Contents. 

by  Burns. — Flowers  :  What  they  Say. — A  Sign-board  got  up  by  a  Philos- 
opher.— An  Early  Walk  by  Sydney  Smith. — Need  of  "  Which." — Amavi 
is  Am-have-I. — Improvements  on  Common  Version. — Sarcastic  Letter  by 
Hogarth. — XX.  Asyndeton,  Lack  of  Ands. — Birth  of  the  Earliest  Re- 
public.— Birth-shout  of  a  Nation. — Style  of  Spectator  Lauded. — Lamar- 
tine's  Home  of  God.— Scene  in  Holland. — Speech  by  Henry  IV.  of 
France. — A  Picture  the  Young  Gentlemen  will  Recognize. — A  True 
Christian  Home 96 


CHAPTER   IV. 

FIGURES   OF   SYNTAX. — PART   SECOND. 

XXI.  Polysyndeton,  or  Superfluity  of  Ands. — Examples  from  Holy  Writ. — 
Beautiful  Tradition  about  our  Master. — A  Death-scene. — Poesy  comes 
Best  from  Deepest  Wells. — A  full  Account  of  the  Great  and  Good  Demos- 
thenes.— Two  great  Lessons  from  him. — Two  Charges  against  him  Re- 
futed.— Battle  of  Solferino. — XXII.  Zeugma,  or  Junction. — Of  Language 
as  Multitudinous. — XXIII.  Syllepsis,  Synesis,  Synthesis. — The  Infinite 
Hand. — XXIV.  Paradiastole,  or  Neithers  and  Nors. — How  it  is  Possible 
to  Join  Disjunctively.— Denunciation  of  an  Oppressor. — XXV.  Pleonasm, 
or  Superfluity. — "  O  Jamie  Thomson  !  Jamie  Thomson,  O  !" — A  Weak 
Pleonasm  where  it  should  not  be. — Being  in  Doleful  Dumps.-;— The 
Mother  of  the  Flowers. — A  Hard  Thing  to  Die. — Criticism  on  Carlyle. — 
"  Going  for  to  Go." — How  Ancient  Ladies  are  Safe  from  Sparks. — "  Ha, 
ha,  the  Wooin'  o't." — Dancing  on  a  Young  Irishman's  Heart. — Boots,  Su- 
gar-tongs, and  Tinder-boxes.— XXVI.  Me-ism.— XXVII.  Hypallage,  the 
Cart  before  the  Horse. — Virgil  Commits  an  Irish  Bull. — Strange  that 
the  Weather-glass  has  so  little  Effect  on  the  Weather. — The  great  Word, 
Remorse. — True  Historic  View  of  English  Language 121 

CHAPTER  V. 

FIGURES   OF   SYNTAX. — PART   THIRD   AND   LAST. 

Figures  not  Tawdry. — Language  Approves  Man  very  High-born. — Figures 
as  Natural  as  is  Breathing. — How  no  Kettle  ever  Boiled,  though  Bridget 
says  so. — XXVIII.  Enallages  of  great  Importance. — They  are  a  Feast 
of  Strawberries. — Twenty-six  Sorts. — Cradle  of  Jesus. — The  Servant- 
boy  of  all  Work  Rushes  in. — XXIX.  Antiptosis. — XXX.  Antemeria. — 
XXXI.  Heterosis. — Indescribable  Beauty  of  Shakespeare's  Style. — One 
who  Furs  himself  round  with  Hearts. — A  Youthful  Witch. — Apostrophe 
to  the  Sun — Panegyric  on  the  Normans. — A  Beautifulest  Bride. — Open- 
ing of  Piers  the  Plowman.  —  XXXII.  Metastasis.  —  Caesar  Fights  on 
the  Arar. — Literature  Bears  us  every  where. — Sam  Slick  on  Widdahs. 
— An  Immortal  Line  by  Keats. — Unsurpassed  Examples  from  the  Swan 
of  Avon. — The  Author  hath  another  Fytte. — XXXIII.  Hyperbaton,  In- 
version, or  Transposition. — Its  Immense  Power. — Mrs.  Sippy  and  Miss 


Table  of  Contents.  xxiii 

Souri. — The  Wild  Sea-mew. — A  Married  Blue-stocking's  Interruptions. 
— The  Snout  of  an  Elephant. — Opening  of  "  Paradise  Lost." — Opening  of 
Hooker's  Great  Book.— Of  the  "Iliad."— Of  Tasso's  Italian  Epic.— Odys- 
seus Bids  Good-bye  to  a  Nymph. — XXXIV.  Anastrophe. — Relief  by 
Tears. — Eleven  Instances  of  Inversion. — Marmion's  Swarthy  Cheek. — 
Death  of  Hector,  from  Cowper's  "Iliad." — Plato's  Six  Arrangements  of 
his  Sentence. — Ariosto's  Ten. — How  Euphony  can  be  Won. — Consecra- 
tion of  Wordsworth. — Wolsey  Stigmatized. — Fall  of  Sathanas. — A  Love 
that  Refuses  to  Die  even  under  Deceit. — Admirable  Argument  by  Pro- 
fessor Bascom  that  Emotion,  Eloquence,  Figures,  will  Increase. — Dis- 
cussion of  the  Periodic  Sentence. — True  Definition  of  Good  Style..  137 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART   FIRST. 

Our  most  Important  Division  Come  at  Last. — A  Protest  against  the  Com- 
mon Definition. — Our  New  Definition. — No  Surfaceness  or  Sham  neces- 
sary in  Figures. — A  Defense  from  the  German. — Demosthenes  Unsur- 
passed in  Figures,  yet  Altogether  Simple. — Every  Good  Figure  has 
Truth  in  it,  and  is  not  Sham. — Play  of  Wit  between  Voltaire  and  Lord 
Chesterfield. — Madness  of  a  March  Hare. — The  Laws  of  Figurative  Lan- 
guage Sweep  away  Transubstantiation. — High  Compliment  not  Meant 
for  One. — Figures  not  to  make  Obscure,  but  Clear. — XXXV.  Simile, 
Fixed  Laws  of. — A  Lovely  and  Calm  Evening. — A  Heroic  Scotch  Ped- 
dler.— A  Bible  Spirit  is  always  Noble. — Account  of  Coleridge. — Attack 
on  Tall  Men  as  to  their  Upper  Story. — Pulpit  Poem  by  Jeremy  Taylor. 
— Spurgeon  and  his  Rose-leaves.  —  Prediction  of  Sharp  Nails  after 
Wedlock. — A  Steam-engine  in  Trousers. — Tear  on  Childhood's  Cheek. 
— Two  Ways  of  Treating  Simile. — Description  of  Oliver  Goldsmith. — 
Swiss  Mountaineer. — Secret  of  How  to  Enrich  your  Style. — Science 
greatly  Fitted  to  Contribute  to  Poesy  Proved  by  Noble  Instances. — An 
Embodied  Storm.  —  A  Young  Lady  who  was  like  an  Apple-dumpling. 
— Homer's  Earliest  Simile. — Full  Account  of  his  Similes. — A  Hero 
Likened  to  a  Haggis  or  a  Pommeled  Ass. — Bushnell  Admirable  on 
Figures. — Wit  of  Dr.  Emmons. — Milton's  Similes  excellently  Done  by 
Addison. — Noble  Eulogy  on  our  English  Bible  by  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic   156 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART   SECOND. 

Poesy  by  no  Means  Fights  against  Common-sense. — Study  Shakespeare's 
Ariel  and  Caliban. — The  Ladies'  Eyes  Likened  by  a  Poor  Poet  to  Bram- 
bles, and  the  Stars  to  Confectioners. — An  Absurdity  Committed  by  a 
Great  Poetess. — Example  of  Genuine  Poesy. — Another,  of  First-class 
Eloquence.— A  Reverend  Dr.  like  Butter. — How  Thomson  was  Im- 


xxiv  Table  of  Contents. 

proved  by  Pope. — A  Felicitous  Philosopher. — Naturalness  is  a  Figure's 
Finest  Charm. — Instances  of  how  Infidelity  Degrades  Man  and  Litera- 
ture.— A  Sea-fight  Mismanaged. — True  Glow  of  Soul  Required,  not 
Sham  Emotion. — The  Muses  are  Sensible  Women. — The  Saucy  Are- 
thusa  Sails  by.  —  Two  Fine  Writers  ably  Contrasted.  —  Charm  that 
Rhythm  Adds  to  Poesy. — Facts  about  the  Spectator. — A  Gazette  in 
Rhyme. — Philosophy  of  Experiment  very  Different  from  the  Ape-honor- 
ing Guess-work  of  Darwin. — Cowley  on  Lord  Bacon. — Beauty  of  River 
Thames. — Distinction  between  Simile  and  Allegory. — Two  Fine  Exam- 
ples.— We  Visit  Loch  Katrine. — Mists  from  Mountain  Torrents. — A 
Demon's  Dread  Thought. — How  Scott's  Novels  make  a  Fellow  Hun- 
gry.— A  Bunch  of  Exquisite  Wild  Flowers  by  Burns. — Two  Grand 
Similes  by  an  Old  Greek — The  Youngest  Babes  the  Nearest  to  God. — 
Nature  like  a  Tender  Nurse. — A  Noble  Comparison  by  "  Euphues." — Ad- 
mirable Poesy  Fresh  from  Ireland. — A  Scene  Truly  American. — Very 
Important  Distinction  by  the  Author  between  Poetry  and  Poesy. — The 
Deepest  Source  of  Similes. — Meanness  of  Atheism. — How  Opposed  to 
Philosophy  and  to  Poesy. — Happy  Simile  from  Dryden. — Cromwell 
well  Expressed. — Dr.  Craik  Contrasts  Beattie's  "  Minstrel "  and  Thom- 
son's "  Castle  of  Indolence  " 170 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FIGURES    OF    RHETORIC. — PART   THIRD. 

XXXVI.  Metaphor.— Old  Father  Taylor  Rouses  the  Sailors.— A  Bridge 
of  Rainbows. — An  Infidel  Book  is  a  Landscape  without  a  Sky. — Tran- 
substantiation  Examined  according  to  the  Philosophy  of  Figures. — "Is" 
very  often  means  "Represents,"  never  "Is  changed  into."  —  Meeting 
between  Washington  Irving  and  Sir  Walter  Scott. — Genius  can  never 
Run  Out  of  Materials. — Two  Sorts  of  Metaphors  Depicted. — A  Mount- 
ain Eagle. — Relations  between  Matter  and  Mind. — Two  Roses  Inter- 
twine over  Two  Tombs. — Union  in  One  Great  Mind  of  the  Hebrew  and 
the  Greek  Genius. — Account  of  Milton. — The  World's  most  Sublime 
Poem. — Two  Conflicting  Verdicts  on  Milton. — A  Good  Metaphor  given 
us  by  Botany. — Contributions  of  Science  to  Poesy. — The  Severely  True 
is  the  most  Romantic. — Bright  Sparks  from  an  Eminent  Wit. — A  Scold- 
ing Woman's  Tongue.— Lines  on  an  Infant. — New  Definition  of  Man. — 
Strange  Visit  to  Byron's  Corpse.  —  What  Sir  WT alter  Esteemed  the 
Finest  Metaphor  in  the  World. — A  Student's  Frolic  by  a  Great  Poet. — 
How  Light  is  the  Shadow  of  God. — Definition  of  the  Poetical  Principle. 
— Two  Church  Historians  Criticised. — Against  Abridgments  of  Great 
Works.-r-Two  Mixed  Metaphors  Dissected. — Account  of  the  Famous 
"  Euphues." — Nothing  is  Lasting  that  is  a  Sham. — Many  Speakers  should 
Thunder  Less  and  Lightning  More. — A  Republic  Surrounded  by  a 
Ghost. — Recipe:  How  to  Cook  Metaphors. — Splendid  Passage  by  a 
Genial  Orator. — How  to  Read  the  Bible  Nobly  in  the  Pulpit. — What 
History  Blushes  at. — Your  Author  Breaks  into  a  Strain. — Old  Gower 


Table  of  Contents.  xxv 

is  Unmercifully  Exposed. — Fuller  is  Pleaded  for. — The  Three  Mourners, 
a  First-rate  Poem  never  before  Translated,  from  the  German 184 


CHAPTER   IX. 

FIGURES    OF    RHETORIC. — PART    FOURTH. 

XXXVII.  Metonymy. — Lies  always  in  a  Noun,  never  in  an  Adjective. — 
You  and  Bridget  make  Them  without  Knowing  of  it.  —  Thirty-four 
Enumerated.  —  Largest  List  in  the  World.  —  Language  Proves  Man 
God-born.  —  A  Beaker  full  of  the  Warm  South.  —  The  Summer  of 
Shiraz. — A  Daily  Sip  of  Spenser. — The  Cave  of  Mammon  do  we  Enter. 
— Tennyson's  Bow  found  Fault  with. — Dreamland  Peopled  with  Won- 
ders.— Una  in  White. — Hush  before  Thunder. — Time,  the  Deep  Voice. 
— Astronomy  Displays  the  Great  Thinker. — Ballad  by  Italian  Shoe- 
maker.— Mornrise. — The  Glories  of  the  Tartan. — A  Charge  of  Spear- 
men.— Make  a  Bow  to  your  Conscience. — The  Shadow  Fearad  of  Man. 
— Toplady's  Beautiful  Hymn. — A  Sleighful  of  Beauty  on  Broadway. — 
A  Wood-pigeon's  Nest. — Grave  of  Lazarus. — A  Bad  Way  of  Doing  a 
Good  Act.— The  Last  Slice  of  Plum-pudding.— To  See  a  Voice.— The 
Cloud-thrones  of  Fancy. — Rise  of  the  Moon. — Glimpse  of  Hell. — Indian 
War-whoop.  —  Cool  Dew. — A  Pope  Inside.  —  The  Mighty  Dead. — 
A  Tight  Gale  at  Sea.  —  A  Perfect  Poem.  —  Noses  who  make  Good 
Customers.  —  A  Bishop  Riding  to  Heaven  on  the  Back  of  a  Cow. — 
A  Terrific  Name.  —  A  Pate  well  Covered.  —  A  Cimeter  Flashes  in 
Battle.  —  XXXVIII.  Synecdoche.  —  A  Queer  Notion  by  Beecher.— 
A  Midnight  of  Snow. — XXXIX.  Metalepsis.  —  An  Echo  in  a  Great 
Dome.  —  An  Essay  on  Veal.  —  Drinking  Crummie. — "The  Kye  come 
Hame." — The  Mystery  that  Solves  Mysteries. — A  Metonymy  is  not  a 
Trope 202 

CHAPTER  X. 

FIGURES   OF    RHETORIC. PART    FIFTH. 

XL.  Tropes. — Never  Precisely  Defined. — Distinction  between  Metonymy 
and  Trope. — The  Latter  always  in  an  Adjective. — Fourteen  Varieties. — 
Fullest  List  in  the  World. — Young  Love. — A  Forgiving  Rainbow. — 
Braidclaith  much  Lauded. — A  Washing-day  :  its  Discomforts.— A  Dying 
Soldier's  Visor. — A  Fan  in  Different  Tempers. — Adieu  to  a  Bride. — 
Summer  in  the  Far  North. — The  Gentleman  with  the  Foolish  Teeth. — 
Pathless  Groves. — A  Sultry  Summer  Eve. — The  Birth  of  Jesus. — A 
Rainy  Night. — The  Cheerful  Hearth  Listening  to  the  Tempest  at  Sea. — 
Of  a  Child  in  Heaven. — The  Cannon  Rattles. — The  Purple  Dresses  of 
the  Proud  and  Fair. — The  Dawning  Hills. — Office  of  Imagination  to 
Discover  Gossamer  Truths. — Bunyan's  Despair,  and  Lear's. — A  With- 
ered Leaf  Preaches  a  Sermon.— Gift  of  Interpreting  Nature. — The  Uni- 
verse Crowded  with  Jehovah's  Thoughts ;  therefore  Poesy  can  not  get 


xxvi  Table  of  Contents. 

Exhausted. — A  False  Religion  Hinders  Noble  Writing. — Draw  up  Full 
List  of  Outward  Objects  used  by  Jesus  as  Illustrations. — He  Led  Men 
Back  to  Nature. — Three  Heads  of  Arrangement ;  nay,  Four. — Tropes 
very  Various  in  their  Sorts. — Very  Fairylike  they  are. — They  are  Change 
of  Adjectives 221 


CHAPTER   XI. 

FIGURES    OF   RHETORIC. — PART   SIXTH. 

XLI.  Hypocatastasis,  or  Implication. — Wretched  Neglect  into  which  our 
Subject  has  Fallen. — Most  Beautiful  and  Far-reaching. — A  Palm-grove. 
— Marvelous  Capabilities  of  English. — Ruins  of  Persepolis. — Vales  Surg- 
ing with  Autumn. — William  the  Testy  Stumps  About. — Closing  Lines 
of  "  Pleasures  of  Memory." — Fancy's  Fairy  Frostwork. — Closing  Lines 
of"  Pleasures  of  Hope." — A  Vision  Appears  of  Drowned  Seaman. — Mrs. 
Partington  with  her  Mop  Defies  the  Atlantic. — Awful  Lightning. — Elo- 
quence of  Demosthenes. — Words  Full  of  Poesy  and  of  Wisdom. — Great 
Thinkers  Abound  in  Figures. — Sediment  if  we  Dip  too  Deep  in  Pleasure. 
— Discussion  of  Scripture  Style. — Elegant  Distinction  in  Greek  New  Test- 
ament.— Bad  Figure  by  Irving. — Dunbar  Describes  Well. — Example  of 
Light  and  Sinewy  Style. — Bird  Helen  is  Shot. — "  Your  Maggotship." — 
Tom  Paine  does  Well  for  Once.— Advice  to  Would-be  Author.— Pas- 
sion is  Priceless.  —  Fame  Crows  Early.  —  The  Woods  put  a  Wig  on 
their  Pate. — Visit  to  the  Vatican. — XLII.  Epanorthosis,  or  Correction. 
— Emma's  Portrait. — Grave  of  a  Sage. — Rats  Turned  into  Mice. — De- 
fense of  Bible. — A  Bad  Position  to  be  in. — XLIII.  Anamnesis,  or  Recol- 
lection.— One  who  is  ever  Present  when  you  Speak  of  him. — XLIV. 
Aposiopesis,  Sudden  Silence.  —  Neptune  Interrupts  himself.  —  The 
Bride's  Tragedy.— XLV.  Sudden  Self-interruption. — Wondrous  from 
Shakespeare. — Slaughter  of  Five  Hundred  Children. — Tameness  in  Pul- 
pit is  Inexcusable. — XLVI.  Emblem. — A  Thrilling  Figure. — A  Magnifi- 
cent Instance. — Sullied  Snow. — Sonnet  from  Italian. — Hon  er  Sings.— 
Critique  by  Theodore  Tilton 231 


CHAPTER   XII. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART   SEVENTH. 

XLVII.  The  Weird. — Anticipations  of  Heaven  by  Horatius  Bonar,  a  True 
Bard  of  the  Cross.—"  The  Ancient  Mariner."— XLVIII.  The  Quaint. 
— Legal  Damages  Secured. — XLIX.  Antithesis  ;  Epantiosis. — Pope's 
Contrast  of  Homer  and  Virgil. — Johnson's,  of  Dryden  and  Pope. — The 
Most  Sublime  of  all  Sciences  and  the  Most  Important  of  all  Arts. — The 
Telescope  and  the  Microscope. — L.  Antimetabole. — LI.  Parison,  or  An- 
nomination.  —  LI  I.  Omoioteleuton.  —  Caesar's  Famous  Letter.  —  LI  1 1. 
Isocolon.  —  Cicero  Declaims.  —  LIV.  Commutation.  —  A  Poem  and  a 
Picture. — A  Writer  who  is  a  Continent  of  Mud. — How  he  that  hath 


Table  of  Contents.  xxvii 

Slight  Thoughts  of  Sin  never  had  Great  Thoughts  of  God.— The  Devil's 
Chapel. — Importance  of  Small  Things. — A  Cry  that  is  a  Silence. — A 
Silence  that  is  a  Cry. — Aphrodite,  the  Genius  of  Beauty,  is  Born  from 
the  Sea-wave. — Enters  the  Almshouse  Physician. — The  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham every  thing  by  Starts,  but  nothing  Long. — We  Go  to  See  a 
Haunt  of  Pirates. — Of  Gunpowder  and  Painting,  by  the  Sixth  American 
President. — Jackasses  and  their  Ditties. — The  Roar  of  Yarrow. — Por- 
trait of  a  Clown. — Two  Overdone  Antitheses. — Literature  should  Image 
Nature,  which  Abounds  in  the  Opposition  of  Situation.  —  Splendid 
Situations  in  Cervantes,  Schiller,  and  Shakespeare  .Marked  by  Con- 
trasts.— Repose  in  Painting. — Shield  of  Achilles. — Trip  to  Alnwick  Cas- 
tle.— A  Collection  of  Figures  Thrown  Together  Purposely  in  Disorder. 
—A  Vast  Constellation  of  Common  Faiths,  in  Literature  and  in  Religion, 
ever  Increasing 247 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART   EIGHTH. 

LV.  Intentional  Discrepancy. — Love  of  Variety  should  be  Humored. — La- 
ment over  Erin. — LVI.  Nonsense  an  Important  Figure.— Some  Folk- 
verses  in  Savannah,  Georgia,  and  on  the  Clyde. — "  Zickaty,  Dickaty, 
Dock."— "Igo  and  Ago."— "Sing  Hey  Trix,  Trim  Go  Trix."— "Lilli- 
burlero." — LVII.  Oxymoron,  or  Wise  Folly. — A  Silent  Voice. — Addi- 
son's  Celebrated  Hymn.— "I  Love  them  Both  Best."— Jesus,  more  Man 
than  any  Man. — He  who  Saw  what  was  Not  to  be  Seen. — A  Press-gang 
Hauls  off  Young  Ben. — Having  Nothing,  he  has  All. — Resemblance  be- 
tween Paul  and  Demosthenes. — Less  than  the  Least. — Saying  Things  too 
Simple  for  Words. — Sedan  and  the  Commune. — Imprisoned  in  Unbound- 
ed Space. — Herbert  Spencer's  Weakness  of  Omniscience. — Magnificent 
Evidence  of  Emptiness. — What  a  Favor  to  Die. — "  Powerful  Weak  but 
Cruel  Easy." — Seeing  too  many  Ghosts  to  Believe  in  Them. — The  Am- 
bition of  Infidelity. — Dr.  Hitchcock  Speaks  Eloquently. — LVIII.  Eu- 
phemism, or  Smooth  Handle.  —  Twa  Neives  that  were  scarce  Weel- 
bred. — A  Volley  of  Presbyterian  Bullets.  —  LIX.  Misnomer.  —  Great 
Wealth  of  Figures  by  our  Saviour. — Lament  over  Cleopatra. — Flies 
that  were  Free  Men. — LX.  Hyperbole,  or  Exaggeration. — One  Hundred 
from  Shakespeare. — A  Dainty  One  from  Anacreon. — Bridget  Comes 
with  the  Coals  in  Less  than  No  Time. — A  Lover's  Rhapsody. — Pellucid 
Elegance. — A  Roe  Bounds  along  a  Moss-grown  Forest  Pathway. — A 
Spectre  Glares  on  us. — An  Old  Woman  Tries  to  put  herself  Back  into 
a  Girl. — Marrying  Beelzebub's  Eldest  Daughter  and  Going  Home  to 
Live  with  the  Old  Folks. — The  Fox  of  Ballybotherem. — Pigs  that  Squeak 
Greek. — A  Giant's  Big  Glove. — The  Dramatists  of  Elizabeth's  Time  give 
us  Grand  Quotations. — Another  Lover  Breaks  Out. — A  River  Runs 
Crazy. — How  the  Morning  Dresses  herself.— A  French  Barber  Talks 
Big. — A  Lady  who  Writes  the  Hottentots  into  Top-boots. — An  Um- 
brella over  a  Duck  in  a  Shower  of  Rain. — Delightful  Little  Letter  to  a 


xxviii  Table  of  Contents. 

Child. — LXI.  Peculiarity  of  Usage. — Figures  can  be  Easily  and  Largely 
Cultivated 263 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART   NINTH. 

LXII.  Litotes,  Meiosis,  or  Lessening.  —  Opposite  of  Hyperbole.  —  Satan 
Hating  the  Sun. — The  Mountain  and  the  Squirrel  have  a  Debate. — En- 
glish but  Half  Developed.— Flora's  Fairest  Daughterling.— LXIII.  The 
Irish  Bull — a  Copious  Supply  of  Them. — Stealing  the  Keyhole. — How 
the  Child's  the  Father  of  the  Man. — Explanation  Philosophic  of  a  Bull. 
—Making  Tay  of  Chocolate.— A  Shilling  Short :  Who  Put  it  In  ?— Keep- 
ing One's  Spake  to  One's  Self. — A  Papa  would  not  Object  to  the  Chil- 
dren's Noise,  if  They  would  only  Keep  Quiet. — A  Poor  Woman  who 
was  the  Mother  of  Six  Small  Children  and  a  Sick  Husband. — A  Man 
Makes  Two  Chairs  out  of  his  Own  Head,  and  has  Plenty  of  Wood  left 
for  Another.  —  LXIV.  Repetition,  Many  in  Bible.  —  LXV.  Ploce.— 
Lord  Chatham  on  Cromwell. — LXVI.  Gemination. — LXVII.  Anaphora, 
Epanaphora.— An  Irishman's  Heart. — LXVI II.  Epistrophe,  Antistro- 
phe,  Epiphora,  Conversion. — A  Noble  One  by  Dr.  Griffin. — A  Great 
Bell  at  Midnight.— LXIX.  Symploce.— Return  of  the  Birds.— LXX. 
Anadiplosis. — LXXI.  Epadiplosis. — A  Monosyllabic  Line  by  your  Au- 
thor. —  LXXII.  Completion.  —  An  Attack  on  Rullus  by  Cicero. — 
LXXHI.  Epanalepsis. — Persecutions  of  the  Apostles. — Immortality  of 
Sin  will  make  Suffering  Immortal. — LXXIV.  Epanodos,  or  Regression. — 
LXXV.  Polyptoton. — A  Man  who  has  Learned  How  to  Learn  can  Learn 
any  Thing.  —  LXXVI.  Epizeuxis,  or  Traduction.  —  LXXVII.  Pareg- 
menon. — LXXVIII.  Summation. — Sublime  Cases  of. — A  Great  Nation 
Made  a  Widow. — Three  Great  Reforms  that  Might  easily  be  Made  in 
the  Pulpit.— Eager  Appeal  to  Modern  Preachers.  — LXXIX.  Choral 
hant. — Art  far  Surpassed. — Panegyric  on  the  Old  Ballads. — Noble 
Quotations  from  Them. — A  Depth  of  Woe. — Ballads  from  Four  Lands. 
Rev.  Ralph  Hoyt  Exhorted  to  Write  more. — The  Gudeman  Comes 
Hame.— LXXX.  Echo.  — A  Figure  wondrously  Beautiful.  — LXX XI. 
Redoubled  Negation.  —  Great  Quotation  from  our  Demosthenes.  — 
LXXXII.  Redoubled  Affirmation.— "A  Thousand  Times  Yes."— A  Su- 
preme Poem  from  the  German  by  your  Author 280 

CHAPTER  XV. 

FIGURES    OF   RHETORIC. — PART   TENTH. 

LXXXIII.  Synonym. — Noble  Liturgy  of  English  Church. — Professor  Cop- 
pee  Contributes  a  Valued  Distinction  between  Liberty  and  Freedom. — 
LXXXIV.  Ascription  of  Value. — By  Luther. — A  Saucy  Miss  is  Rebuked. 
—  LXXXV.  Dubitation.  — By  Earl  of  Strafford.  — Thorn  the  Weaver- 
Poet. — Chrysostom  on  Abraham's  Offering  Up  of  Isaac. — The  Mind 


Table  of  Contents.  xxix 

Tortured  in  an  Eddy. — LXXXVI.  Pretended  Discovery. — The  Anti- 
quarian Trade. — LXXXVII.  Aporia,  or  Pretended  Impossibility. — Elo- 
quence of  Paul ;  Our  Need  of  a  Better  Translation.— LXXXVIII.  Ig- 
norance.—Willie  Winkie,  the  Genius  of  Slumber.— LXXXIX.  Indis- 
tinctness.— A  Hazy  Mist. — ^Eneas  and  the  Sibyl  Enter  Hell  in  a  Dim 
Light. — Grand  Passage. — Two  Shades  Sit  on  their  Sepulchres. — A  Hid- 
den Monster. — A  Dreaded  Name. — Two  Sublime  Pictures. — Christ's 
Face  in  Eclipse. — Magnificent  Argument  by  a  Great  Reasoner  in  Be- 
half of  our  Position  as  to  Figures. — XC.  Affirmation. — XCI.  Affirma- 
tion and  Negation.  —  The  Maniac.  —  Appeal  to  the  Pulpit.  —  XCII. 
Apostrophe. — Very  Important. — Adversity  Light  compared  with  Guilt. 
— Invocation  of  Freedom. — Ossian  Discussed. — Napoleon's  Favorite. — 
Address  to  the  Sun. — William  Tell  Holds  Communion  with  Alpine 
Winds. — The  Soul's  Defiance. — Ode  to  the  Cuckoo. — Biography  of  the 
Ettrick  Shepherd. — Address  to  the  Skylark. — Darwin  the  Elder  Apos- 
trophizes the  Stars.  —  XCIII.  Denunciation.  —  Sublime  Instances. — 
XCIV.  Solemn  Appeal  to  Deity. — By  Demosthenes  and  by  Brougham ; 
by  Cicero  and  by  Erskine. — Never  Done  any  More. — XCV.  Oath,  or 
Adjuration. — Tremendous  Power  of  Shakespeare. — Anathema. — XCVI. 
Command. — Cutting  the  Mast  Away. — XCVII.  Exclamation  of  Sorrow. 
— Widow  Malone  and  Widow  Machree. — XCVIII.  Spiritualization. — 
Sweet  Butter  and  Mountain  Thyme 301 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART    ELEVENTH. 

XCIX.  Irony. — The  Dry  Mock. — In  Scripture,  no  Contempt  of  Man,  there- 
fore Irony  Seldom. — A  Prisoner  for  Debt. — Catiline  Defies  the  Senate. 
—A  Pretty  Sum  to  Begin  the  Next  World  with.— The  Apostolical  Suc- 
cession from  Judas. — Four  Best  American  Satires. — C.  Antiphrasis. — 
The  Broad  Flout. — CI.  Ironical  Permission,  or  Ironical  Command. — 
Jesus  Commands  Disciples  to  Arm  Themselves.  —  Bold  Bacchanals 
Rise.  — C II.  Anti-Irony,  or  Pretended  Blame.  — Wee  Willie  Winkie 
Comes  a  Second  Time.— CHI.  Mock-Heroic.— A  Boiled  Sheep's  Head 
Cooked  for  a  Scotchman. — CIV.  Prosopopeia,  or  Personification. — 
Scripture  Overflows  with  It — Feelings  Bodied  Forth  in  Forms  or  Out- 
ward Things  Find  a  Heart  and  Mind. — Man  is  the  Most  to  Man. — The 
Captive  Fay.— The  Dance  of  the  Seven  Deadly  Sins.— Ocean's  Froth- 
ing Lips. — A  Steed's  Mane. — The  Sun's  Pretty  Daughters.— Ghastly 
Amazement. — Sleeping  Moss. — A  Welcome  to  Dawn. — How  Numerous 
the  Figures  of  Jesus.  —  A  Vast  Oak  with  an  Altar  under  it  of  the 
Druids.— Natural  Religion  Chooses  between  Jesus  and  Mohammed. — 
Launch  of  a  Man-of-war. — A  War-ship  Hastes  to  Battle.— A  Death- 
march  of  Waves.— The  Pyramids  Dote  with  Age.— A  Castle  over  the 
Sea. — Column  of  Bunker  Hill  Speaks. — A  Pilgrim  Gray. — War  Yclad 
in  Steel. — Milk-white  Asphodel. — The  Poet  Kisses  the  Rose. — The 
Nymph,  Content. — Outburst  of  Tecumseh. — The  Dimples  on  the  Cheek 


xxx  Table  of  Contents. 

of  Home. — A  Wild  Storm  among  the  Mountains. — Red  Battle  Stamps 
his  Foot. — Nature  at  her  Evening  Prayers. — A  Wicked  If. — The  Pul- 
pit, Angel-like. — Two  very  Different  Kinds  of  Words. — Delightful  Feet. 
— Maids  of  Honor  to  the  Spring. — CV.  Ascription  of  Intention. — Love- 
ly Scene  in  Ireland. — CVI.  And- Personification. — A  Horse  with  a 
Thing  on  its  Back.  —  Things  Soft  as  Girls.  —  Aristotle's  Wondrous 
Prayer.  —  No  Atheist  He,  yet  how  Vast  an  Intellect.  —  Five  Great 
Thinkers  in  the  Olden  Time  who  Abounded  in  Prayer. — How  Shallow 
our  Atheists  are  compared  with  them.  —  Three  very  Important  Re- 
flections.— First,  the  Present  Atheism  is  a  Piece  of  Good  Fortune  for 
Christianity.  —  Second,  in  Prayer  is  no  Priestcraft. — Third,  Bible  the 
Great  Extirpator  of  all  Priestcraft. — The  Rampart  of  Liberty. — A  For- 
tune-hunter Meets  an  Ignominious  Fate. — CVI  I.  Enhancement  by  Dif- 
ference.— An  Emigrant's  Tears. — The  Ruins  of  Petra 321 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART  TWELFTH. 

CVIII.  Egoism.  —  Demosthenes,  Brougham,  and  Cowper.  —  Appeal  to 
Common-sense. — A  Burst  of  Eloquence  from  the  Pulpit. — Grandeur  of 
Immortality. — How  Wise  in  Christ  to  Give  in  His  System  so  Leading  a 
Place  to  Preaching. — Never  will  Pulpit  be  Superseded  by  the  Newspa- 
per or  by  the  Printing-press. — CIX.  Self-depreciation. — Egoism  must 
not  Flavor  of  Egotism. — On  Death  of  Marshal  Turenne. — CX.  Parano- 
masia,  or  Pun. — Falling  from  a  Style  and  Breaking  One's  Neck. — Learn- 
ing a  Craft  so  as  to  Live  Without  Craft. — CXI.  Antanaclasis,  a  Peculiar 
Kind  of  Pun. — The  Best  of  Acids. — Hanging  so  as  to  Avoid  Hanging. 
— Pun  on  Tombstones. — "Diggin'  a  Tattie." — CXII.  Soliloquy. — Many 
Fine  Ones  from  Holy  Writ. — Need  of  a  New  Translation,  and  Precisely 
Why.— CXIII.  Direct  Address.— Sublime  One  in  Genesis.— The  Old 
Clock  Talks  to  Us.— A  Dying  Mother  Pleads  for  her  Babe.— The  Coon 
Speaks  to  the  Colonel. — Sacrifice  of  Isaac. — Speech  by  the  Moon  to  a 
Shy  Lover. — CXIV.  Dialogue. — Demosthenes  very  Personal. — Pilot  in 
a  Hurricane. — Dialogues  for  the  Pulpit. — Brougham  to  House  of  Lords. 
— Very  Wonderful  from  Rowland  Hill. — Intense  Beauty  from  Holy 
George  Herbert.  —  Your  own  Death-bed.  —  Shakespeare  Beaten  for 
Once. — Anselm  very  Emphatic. — The  Impetuous  Sword-song. — XCV. 
Prediction.— Lord  Chatham  Argues  for  the  Americans. — How  Faith 
Inspires  an  Orator.  —  A  Cottage  that  is  Impregnable.  —  Appeal  for 
Missions.  —  CXVI.  Anticipation.  —  A  Murdered  Man  Stalks  through 
a  Ball-room.  —  CXVII.  Paralepsis.  —  CXVIII.  Apophasis.  —  Pre- 
tended Omission.  —  St.  Paul's  Good  Manners.  —  "The  Lady  of  the 
Lake." — A  Young  Lady's  Secret. — Noble  Instances  from  Demosthenes. 
— CXIX.  Disparity. — The  Full-winged  Eagle. — Your  Author  Opens 
to  You  a  Vast  Forest. — CXX.  Outward  Illustration.  —  A  Ghost  Ap- 
pears. —  The  Clank  of  Chains.  —  The  most  Magnificent  Passage  in 
our  Oratory.  —  Wonders  of  a  Pen.  —  CXXI.  Accompaniment.  —  A 


Table  of  Contents.  xxxi 

Thunder-crash. — CXXII.  Meeting  of  Opposites. — Mice  and  Men  Gang 
aft  Agley 341 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART  THIRTEENTH. 

CXXIII.  Onomatopy.— Sound  Resembling  Sense.— Tick,  Tick.— The  Oar 
on  Lake  Leman. — Lodore  Waterfall  Dashes  down. — A  Mighty  Castle 
Falls.— A  Zephyr  and  a  Torrent.— Cry  of  a  Wolf.— The  Last  Red  Leaf. 
— Soft  Music. — Gates  of  Hell  Open,  and  Gates  of  Heaven. — Burst  of 
Thunder. — Farewell  to  Life. — The  Fairies  Come  Tripping  in. — Pittle 
Pattle  ! — CXXIV.  Interrogation. — A  Fact  never  Named  before,  about 
Jesus. — The  very  Soul  of  Christianity. — Whitefield  Electrifies  the  Sail- 
ors.— The  Last  Burning  of  the  World. — A  Question  Put  to  Each  of  Us. 
— Lines  in  a  Grave-yard. — Goethe's  Genius  and  his  Trash. — Mignon's 
very  Fine  Song. — A  Great  Fire  in  a  City. — Erotesis. — The  Strut  of  a 
Few  Men  of  Science. — Innumerable  Blunders  by  them. — As  Many  as 
by  Theologians. — The  Herald  of  the  Second  Crusade. — An  Infant  De- 
scribed.— Prediction  that  Garibaldi  would  Arise. — Admirable  Sonnet 
on  Night. — Lord  Lytton  on  Cicero. — A  Struggle  between  Murder  and 
Greed.  —  CXXV.  Question  and  Answer.  —  Responsion.  —  Inimitable 
Story  by  Sterne. — Lay  of  Last  Minstrel. — CXXVI.  Exclamation. — Ec- 
phonesis.  —  CXXVII.  Epiphonema.  —  A  truly  Tremendous  Scolding 
which  Serves  him  Right. — Sabbath  Morning. — The  Evening  Hour. — 
The  Tenth  Muse. — Two  Death-bed  Scenes.— Your  Author  Breaks  Out. 
—  CXXVIII.  Nomination.  —  Broad  Hindostan.  —  Bearing  Away  for 
Squam. — Noble  Music 361 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

TIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART   FOURTEENTH. 

CXXIX.  Technicality.— Land-lubbers  Taken  too  Far  out  to  Sea.— CXXX. 
Indication.— Mary  Laid  in  her  Coffin. — The  Gale  out  on  the  Beach.— 
A  Daring  Scene  in  the  Pulpit. — Jesus  Points  to  the  Lilies  and  to  the 
Stars.  —  Conscience  Remonstrated  with.  —  CXXXI.  Vision.  —  The 
Clachan  Seen  which  will  Never  be  Revisited. — The  Night  Steals  on. 
— Silence  Sits  on  a  Three-legged  Stool.  —  An  Action  Sermon  by  Dr. 
Alexander. — The  Mayflower  in  a  Storm. — Broadswords  flashing. — How 
Dr.  Guthrie  Composed  his  Sermons  that  were  so  Sea-like. — Death-bed 
of  the  Saint. — CXXXII.  Hypotyposis,  or  Visible  Presentation.— Cicero 
Declaims.— Elijah  Soars.— A  Martyr's  Bleeding  Head.  — CXXXIII. 
Present  Occurrence.  —  A  Worldling  Dies  before  you.  —  CXXXIV. 
Hearing.— Queen  Victoria's  Night  Journey. — A  Hush  before  Waterloo. 
— How  Dread  is  Conscience  ! — At  Midnight  in  an  Old  Cathedral. — The 
Marseillaise  Hymn. — Translation  from  Spanish. — CXXXV.  Motion. — 
We  Go  to  an  Impenitent  Offender  Dying.  —  Death  of  our  Lord.  —  A 


xxxii  Table  of  Contents. 

Visit  to  Hell  that  would  do  us  Good.  —  A  Good  Heathen  Urges  us  to 
Pray. — Visit  to  Calvary. — Obedience  and  Liberty  go  Together. — Satan 
Hastens  on. — Urgent  Appeal  for  Study  of  Figures. — CXXXVI.  Climax. 
— Climbing  the  Catskills.— John  Wesley  is  Humorous. — Grand  Burst 
from  a  Grand  Irishman. — A  Man  of  True  Science  Speaks  for  Religion. 
— Panegyric  on  Greece. — Amplification. — Epiploce. — A  Specimen  of 
Contempt. — Epitaph  on  Cowper. — Chief-Justice  Story  Defends  Mans- 
field.—CXXXVII.  Anticlimax.— Lord  Rochester  Foiled  by  a  Bishop. 
— Catabasis.— CXXXVIII.  From  Less  to  Greater.— Eternal  Woe.— 
Development  of  Character.— CXXXIX.  From  Greater  to  Less.— Fine 
Examples  from  the  Swan  of  Avon. — God  Works  with  the  Meanest 
Things,  and  so  can  Genius. — Exceeding  Value  of  this. — God  compared 
to  a  Hen.  —  A  Discovery  concerning  Jesus,  to  which  Attention  is 
Challenged.— This  Deserves  Twenty  Years'  Study 378 


CHAPTER  XX. 

FIGURES    OF    RHETORIC. — PART    FIFTEENTH. 

CXL.  Parallelism. — Favorite  of  Hebrew  Poesy. — New  Way  in  which  the 
Bible  should  be  Printed. — The  Fathers  of  the  Church  give  us  Specimens. 
—  CXLI.  Numeration.  —  The  First  Red  Cent.  —  Where  a  Saxpence 
should  be  Put. — In  what  Time  Americans  Expect  to  do  Every  Thing. — 
Sublime  Peculiarity  in  the  Deity.  —  Obedience  on  God's  Part.  —  Dr. 
Bushnell's  Great  Book. — An  Objection  against  Scripture  Removed. — 
The  Ballads  Quoted. — Stupendous  Displays  of  Eating  Prowess. — Beef 
and  Ale  Disappear. — How  Much  can  be  Done  in  Battle  by  a  Stay-lace. 
— Folly  of  Unbelief. — Wit  from  Joe  Miller. — Solemnity  from  an  Old 
Mystic.  —  A  Jocund  Landlord.  —  The  Town  Mouse  and  the  Country 
Mouse. — CXLII.  Sudden  Address. — Distinction  between  Rhetoric  and 
Logic. — First  Approach  to  the  Sea.— Sense  Expostulates  with  Reason. 
— What  Charm  Avon's  Swan  puts  in  Slightest  Turns  of  Utterance. — My 
Mother  in  Heaven  is  still  my  Mother  even  at  that  Distance. — An  Inim- 
itable Address  that  was  Sudden. — CXLIII.  Surprisal. — Our  Ever-dear 
and  Thrice-honored  Demosthenes. — Jesus,  a  Master  of  Oratory. — The 
Sufferings  of  Jesus  not  the  most  Deplorable.  —  Some  French  Roman 
Catholic  Sermons  with  very  Little  Popery  in  them  are  very  Noble. — 
CXLIV.  Reservation.  —  Aaron  Burr,  Satan-like.  —  CXLV.  Pause.  — 
Caesar  in  his  Coffin.— Pope's  Death-bed.— CXLVI.  Double  Meaning.— 
Two  Smart  Specimens.  —  CXLVII.  Mimicry.  —  Sea  Lingo  and  Law 
Lingo. — A  Mare  that  the  Lawyers  Swallowed. — Monastery  at  Midnight. 
— CXLVIII.  Archaism.  —  Authors,  their  Rust  and  their  Gold.  —  Soft 
Sounds. — CXLIX.  Concession.— CL.  Paramologia. — CLI.  Synchoresis, 
or  Permission.  —  Poor  Man's  Cottage. — Oratory  Fed  by  Bible. — Great 
Speech  by  Ames. — Hymn  by  Watts. — A  Man  Pulled  up  to  Heaven  by 
his  Ears.— A  Swiss  Lauds  Holy  Writ.— Jesus  Wishes  to  be  Refuted  and 
is. — Do  you  Believe  Eternal  Things  ? — CLII.  Prohibition 398 


Table  of  Contents.  xxxiii 

CHAPTER   XXL 

FIGURES    OF    RHETORIC. PART    SIXTEENTH. 

CLIII.  Indirect  Statement,  or  Coverture.— The  Gentle  Hint. — Attack  by 
Lord  Chatham. — A  Great  Sally  by  Patrick  Henry. — Everett's  Defense 
of  Daniel  Webster.— Sir  Walter  Raleigh  and  the  Lady's  Pigs.— CLIV. 
Specification  of  Details. — Portraits  of  Robespierre,  Danton,  and  Marat. — 
Eloquence  by  Burke  and  Curran. — The  Captive  in  his  Dungeon. — A  Miser 
in  his  Coffin. — Dr.  Bethune  makes  Good  Use  of  a  Door-lock.  —  Steal- 
ing the  Coo  was  Necessary. — CLV.  Plurals. — CLVI.  Optation,  or  Wish. 
— The  Fat  Monk  who  Wished  to  be  Kicked. — CLVII.  Anacoenosis. — 
Applying  to  Others  for  an  Opinion. — What  Drubbing  Means. — Prepar- 
ing to  Read  the  Bible  Nobly. — Two  Things  we  Want  on  Sunday. — 
CLVIII.  Supposition. — By  Junius  and  by  Payson. — CLIX.  Isolation. — 
The  Great  French  Pulpit  Triumvirate. — Awful  Sermon  by  Jonathan 
Edwards. — Demosthenes. — What  is  Highest  in  the  Pulpit. — CLX.  Uni- 
fication.— Shakespeare  Succeeds. — CLXI.  Assumption  of  Agreement. — 
Several  First-rate  Examples. — CLXII.  Pretended  Assent. — By  a  Soldier. 
— CLXIII.  Interpolation. — Shakespeare  Excels  in  Oratory  as  much  as 
in  Poesy. — A  Misfortune  that  Befalls  a  Stocking. — CLXIV.  Catachresis. 
— Philosophy  of  the  Ungrammatical. — CLXV.  Anacoluthon  :  a  Kind  of 
Bad  Grammar  that  is  Good. — CLX VI.  Affirmative  Negation. — Beauti- 
ful Poem  by  Alice  Gary. — CLXVII.  Negative  Affirmation. — Fun  from 
Saxe.  —  CLXVIII.  Community.  —  CLXIX.  Proprietorship.  —  CLXX. 
Prolepsis. — CLXXI.  Procatalepsis. — What  in  the  World  can  these  Two 
Mean? — What  can  be  Meant  by  Reading  the  Bible  so  Badly  in  the 
Pulpit? 417 

CHAPTER  XXII. 

FIGURES    OF    RHETORIC. — PART   SEVENTEENTH. 

CLXXII.  Self-substitution. — Put  Yourself  in  Another's  Place. — Fine  from 
Dr.  Griffin.  —  CLXXIII.  Retort.  —  By  Pitt,  against  Slave  -  trade.  — 
CLXXIV.  Conversion. — By  Demosthenes. — A  Likeness  done  to  the 
Death.  —  Disaster  on  the  Battle-field.  —  Bidding  us  Good-morning  in 
Heaven.— CLXX V.  The  Prosaic.— Wife,  Children,  and  Friends.— Lob- 
bin  Clout— Turnips  and  Oatmeal.— CLX XVI.  Indirection.— A  Mag- 
nificent Reception. — CLXXVII.  Oratorical  Syllepsis. — Wounding  the 
Flesh,  Tearing  the  SouL— CLXXVIII.  Attitude.— The  Moon  takes  up 
a  Tail. — Slaying  Isaac  twice  over  in  the  Pulpit. — An  Epic  Attitude ;  by 
Napoleon  and  by  Algernon  Sydney. — The  most  Sublime  of  all  Attitudes. 
— Pitt  Kills  by  One. — Sir  Walter  Dying. — CLXXIX.  Epiphonema. — 
Grand  Examples  from  Milton ;  from  the  German;  from  Burke. — Transla- 
tion from  Spanish  by  your  Author. — CLXXX.  Abbreviation. — Gents  on 
Broadway  Cane  in  Hand.— CLXXXI.  Hendiadys.— The  Might  of  an 
Archangel. — CLXXXII.  Antonomasia. — Proper  Name  for  a  Common 

C 


xxxiv  Table  of  Contents. 


Name.— A  Village  Hampden.— A  D.D.  Deep  in  Love.— CLXXXIIT. 
Alliteration. — Rhyme  at  the  Beginning. — Henry  Clay  Inherits  Three  I's. 
— Praise  of  the  Robin. — Prince  Arthur's  Crest. — A  Beautiful  River 
Scene. — September  Lauded. — Picture  of  a  Mill. — A  True  Poet  from 
California.  —  Your  Author  Ventures  a  Poem.  —  CLXXXIV.  Poetic 
Forms. — Scottish  Doric  much  Commended. — Warnings  against  Frip- 
pery.— Tinsel  from  Tennyson. — A  Great  Truth  from  an  Able  French- 
man    440 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

FIGURES   OF  RHETORIC. — PART  EIGHTEENTH. 

CLXXXV.  Sudden  Transition. — Maggie  Lauder  comes  frae  Fyfe  to  De- 
light us. — An  Invitation  which  Some  of  you  will  be  too  Glad  to  Accept. 
— Execution  by  a  Rapid  Widow. — Two  Fat  Duennas  Devoured. — Glad 
that  a  Baby  has  nae  Wings. — CLXXXVI.  Allusion. — Atheists  Branded. 
— A  Smoke-pipe. — "  Let  Newton  be  !" — Sir  Walter  Admonishes  us  to 
Keep  the  Sabbath. — Boiling  in  a  Caldron. — Master  the  Bible  if  you 
would  Master  the  Heart.  — "  Shoo-fly  !"  —  Old  Schoolmaster  lets  out 
School.— Eagle  on  a  Thunderbolt.— CLXXXVII.  Hint— CLXXXVI II. 
Ascription  of  Determination.  —  Able  Passage  from  the  French.  — 
CLXXXIX.  Periphrasis,  or  Circumlocution. — Dean  Swift  Cuts  Deep. 
— We  Correct  a  Mistake  made  by  many  Authors. — Old  Way  to  Make 
Poets  Fluent. — "Trundling  the  Hoop  "not  Dignified  enough. — Dr.  John- 
son Talks  Big ;  as  also  McQueen. — Hugh  Miller,  or  Old  Red. — Plain 
Mary. — Definition  of  a  Fishing-rod. — A  Large  Variety  of  very  Clever 
Expressions. — CXC.  Superfine  English  made  Fun  of. — CXCI.  Inter- 
pretation.— Your  Author  has  another  Fytte. — CXCII.  Proverbs. — A 
Fine  Collection  from  the  Yorubas  in  Africa. — Others  that  are  First-rate. 
— A  Long  Spoon  Needed  for  Queer  Society. — Please  Don't  Sup  with 
Him.— CXCIII.  The  Third  Person.— Pathetic  Instance.— CXCIV.  Odd 
Rhymes. — "  Shall "  and  "  Will "  Mastered  at  Last. — As  also  the  Latin 
Verbs.— CXCV.  Odd  Bits  of  Prose.— CXCVI.  Household  Words.— 
They  are  Praised  very  Greatly,  and  Great  Examples  Given.— CXCVII. 
Pretended  Depreciation.— How  they  Court  in  Ireland.— CXC  VIII.  Rhe- 
torical Use  of  the  Past. — Philosophy  of  Rhetoric. — CXCIX.  Rhetorical 
Use  of  the  Future — Fine  Poem  of  Victor  Hugo's,  Translated  by  Author. 
— CC.  Ascription  of  Rationality  to  Lower  Animals. — A  New  Defense  of 
Balaam's  Ass  Worth  Reading. — CCI.  Nicknames. — Panegyric  on  Rev. 
Dr.  Guthrie. — CCII.  The  Doric. — CCIII.  Impersonation,  or  Character- 
acting. — CCIV.  The  Materialistic. — CCV.  The  Singular  Number. — 
CCVI.  Double  Words.  —  An  Expression  Dear  to  Burns  and  to  Chal- 
mers.— CCVII.  Celerity. — Smallest  Figures  are  Grains  of  Gunpowder. 
— CCVIII.  Epithetic.— Go  to  School  to  Homer.— CCIX.  Passing  from 
Literal  to  Figurative. — "  Dried  Tongue." — A  Good  Sample  from  Rev. 
Dr.  Mott.— CCX.  Threat.— Love  will  Produce  it.— CCXI.  Repose.— The 
Brow  of  the  Dead  Invoked. — Death  of  Demosthenes 459 


Table  of  Contents.  xxxv 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. — PART   NINETEENTH. 

CCXII.  Bulk.— Uncouth  Size.— Polyphemus  not  a  Beauty.— Leviathan.— 
Picture  of  Death.  —  CCXIII.  Classicality.  —  Fine  Instance  from  Sir 
Walter  Raleigh.— CCXIV.  Rallying-Cries.— Battle  of  Bannockburn.— 
A  Great  Contest  coming  Soon. — CCXV.  Appeal  to  Knowledge. — Bat- 
tle of  Blenheim.  —  CCXVL  Reverse.  —  Smart  Hit  by  a  Yankee.— 
CCXVII.  Specification  of  Place.  — CCXVIII.  Specification  of  Time. 
— On  Eve  of  Marathon. — Before  the  Armada. — The  Normans  Start  for 
England.  —  CCXIX.  Cry  of  Warning.  —  Dreadful  Preparations  to  Kill 
Two — Chickens. — A  Jackass  Brays. — CCXX.  Familiarity.— Beautiful 
by  Luther.— No  Buffoonery  in  the  Pulpit.— CCXXI.  The  Obverse.— 
From  Macaulay.  —  Praise  and  Blame  of  Woman. — Closing  Remarks: 
i.  Our  English  is  but  Half  Developed. — Grand  New  Words. — A  Great 
Attempt  in  this  way  by  Author  to  Coin  a  New  Word — Cosmarch. — 
Our  Country  is  not  yet  Baptized. — 2.  The  Homely  is  again  Urged. — 
Examples,  and  Good  Ones  from  Dr.  Mott. — A  Mighty  Effect  made  by 
"  You  Sha'n't !"  —  3.  Sources  whence  Figures  may  be  Obtained.  —  4. 
Shakespeare's  Three  Chief  Faults.  —  5.  One  Hundred  Figures  still  to 
be  Discovered. — Send  them  in,  for  our  Tenth  Edition. — 6.  Certain  Ad- 
mirable Productions  to  be  Read  by  you.  —  7.  Suggestiveness,  Try  to 
Acquire.  —  Lastly,  Medley,  Number  Two.  See  Close  of  Chapter  XII. 
— Panegyric  on  the  Bible,  by  a  Romanist. — Dryden  Lauds  Cromwell. — 
Martyrdom  of  Honest  Hugh  Latimer. — Fine  Poem  from  Spanish,  Trans- 
lated by  your  Author. . . ; 494 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC.  — PART  TWENTIETH. 

CCXXII.  Parody.  —  What  Caricature  is  in  Portrait-painting. — The  Last 
Golden  Dollar  Bewept.— Daemon  of  Socrates.— CCXXIII.  Idioms.— A 
Charm  in  the  Spectator. — Thomas  Fuller  highly  Bepraised. — "  Moving, 
Sir,"  saith  the  Yankee. — Style  Recommended  of  Defoe,  Paley,  Steele. 
— Inimitable  Grace  of  Addison. — Cicero  is  Attacked  and  Admired. — 
Amusing  Inconsistencies  in  English  Language. — Burns  Compared  to 
Tennyson.  —  Tennyson  is  Decidedly  too  Fine.  —  CCXXIV.  Parable. — 
Severe  Complaint  against  Modern  Pulpit  in  this  One  Point — Never  a 
Parable. — Some  Examples. — Make  Jesus  your  Chief  Model  for  Pulpit 
Oratory. — Your  Author  Breaks  out. — Tennyson's  "Queen  Mary"  is  a 
Manly,  Plain  Exposure  of  Priests. — He  is  now  too  Earnest  to  be  Dan- 
dyish.—CCXXV.  Our  Last  Figure  is  here  at  Last— Allegory.— "  The 
Mariner's  Hymn." — No  Allegory  in  the  Bible. — Account  of  Bunyan.— 
Popping  the  Question. — Hawthorne's  "  Celestial  Railroad." — Mr.  Hide 
Sin  in  the  Heart,  Mr.  Scaly  Conscience,  and  Others  like  Him. — A  List 
of  Noble  Allegories.— Longfellow's  "  Ship  of  State." — Peggy  and  Jenny 


xxxvi  Table  of  Contents. 

Discuss  the  Great  Question,  Is  a  Married  or  a  Single  Life  the  Better  ? — 
Meanings  in  a  Gothic  Cathedral.  —  Close  of  our  Subject.  —  Have  we 
Established  our  Daring  Claim  to  Thorough  Originality? — May  United 
States  and  Britain,  that  have  One  Great  Language,  be  One  Great  Nation. 
— Farewell,  in  a  Poetic  Outburst 512 

LIST  OF  FIGURES  OF  SPEECH 531 

INDEX 535 


INTRODUCTION. 


ONE  main  object  of  this  volume  is  to  set  forth  the 
power,  beauty,  wealth,  and  wit  of  language— the  Might 
and  Mirth  of  Literature — by  taking  a  wide  survey  of  our 
American  and  English  writers,  from  the  Anglo-Saxon 
times  till  now;  not  from  many  unconnected  points  of 
view,  but  from  strictly  one  point  —  whence,  as  from  a 
green  hill-side  in  the  centre  of  a  great  domain,  the  whole 
rich  landscape  can  be  beheld.  That  one  view-point  is 
Figurative  Language  ;  by  their  mode  of  using  which  you 
may  with  accuracy  judge  of  our  authors,  by  almost  all 
of  whom  figures  of  speech  are  largely  employed,  from 
the  gravest  disquisition  to  the  airiest  breathing  of  song 
that  ever  milk-maid  chanted  over  her  milking-pail.  This 
volume  will  thus  possess  strict  artistic  and  scientific 
unity. 

Besides — and  of  this  assertion  the  severest  scrutiny  is 
challenged,  the  affirmation  being  very  venturesome  and 
improbable — the  author  avers  that  this  plan  of  his  has 
the  merit,  even  at  this  late  day,  of  the  most  entire  orig- 
inality ;  never  before  has  figurative  language  been  taken 
as  a  point  from  which  to  examine  a  whole  literature. 
Nobody  will  readily  believe  that,  after  the  most  invent- 
ive minds  have  been  treating  of  literature  for  twenty-two 
centuries,  an  entirely  new  and  exceedingly  comprehen- 


xxxviii  Introduction. 

sive  and  searching  mode  of  treatment  can  possibly  re- 
main to  be  discovered ;  yet  such  is  the  case,  remarkable 
as  is  the  fact ;  as  the  quaint  old  French  essayist,  Mon- 
taigne, has  said :  "  The  flowers  I  have  gathered  are  from 
others ;  the  string  that  ties  them  together  is  mine  own." 
A  string  to  which  we  ascribe  great  worth.  This  volume 
claims  to  be  of  the  greatest  value  in  studying  language 
and  literature,  and  of  special  use  to  all  public  speakers — 
for  instance,  to  clergymen  and  to  lawyers. 

Farther,  there  is  no  even  tolerably  good  treatise  on 
Figures  existing  at  present  in  our  language — Is  there  in 
any  other  tongue?  There  is  no  consecutive  discussion 
of  them  of  more  than  a  few  pages  ;  the  examples  brought 
forward  by  all  others  being  trivial  in  the  extreme  and 
threadbare ;  while  the  main  conception  of  what  consti- 
tutes the  chief  class  of  figures  is  altogether  narrow,  er- 
roneous, and  unphilosophical.  Writers  generally,  even 
the  ablest,  are  wholly  in  the  dark  as  to  the  precise  dis- 
tinction between  a  trope  and  a  metonymy ;  and  very  few 
even  of  literary  men  have  so  much  as  ever  heard  of  Im- 
plication or  Hypocatastasis,  one  of  the  most  important 
figures,  and  one,  too,  that  is  perpetually  shedding  its 
light  on  us. 

On  all  occasions,  mournful  and  joyous,  figures  break 
in  ;  if  any  thing  is  natural,  they  are.  Professor  Wilson, 
the  once  celebrated  editor  of  Blackwood's  Magazine— 
Christopher  North  he  called  himself — one  of  the  noblest- 
looking  of  men,  was  waited  on  in  his  study  by  the  young 
gentleman  who  had  won  his  daughter's  heart :  the  youth 
wished  to  obtain  papa's  consent.  The  Professor  heard 
him,  and  was  satisfied  ;  the  match  was  in  every  respect 
a  good  one.  He  rung  the  bell  for  Miss  Wilson.  She 
came  blushing  like  the  morn.  An  author  had  sent  a 


Introduction.  xxxix 

book  to  Wilson,  on  the  fly-leaf  of  which  were  written 
the  words,  "  With  the  author's  compliments."  The  Pro- 
fessor tore  out  the  leaf,  pinned  it  to  his  daughter's  dress, 
and  presented  her  to  her  lover — certainly  a  figurative 
use  of  the  inscription. 

Two  things  might  almost  scare  you  from  the  study  of 
these  forms  of  expression.  The  first  is,  the  great  num- 
ber of  them  which  rhetoricians  enumerate.  Holmes,  in 
his  "Rhetoric  Made  Easy,"  published  in  1755,  gives  a 
list  of  two  hundred  and  fifty ;  and  in  this  volume  two 
hundred  and  twenty  are  catalogued,  all  of  eminent  value, 
besides  many  elegant  subvarieties:  for  instance,  thirty- 
two  metonymies ;  but  thus  you  should  the  more  be  con- 
vinced beforehand  how  overflowing  is  the  exuberance  of 
our  theme,  whose  every  variety  is  a  variety  of  beauty. 
Language!  How  many-tinted  a  mountain  haze  is  this, 
through  which  the  sun  of  thought  is  shining !  The  other 
circumstance,  for  a  moment  alarming,  is  the  hard  names, 
meaningless  save  to  such  as  are  profound  in  Greek,  by 
which  rhetors  catalogue  the  weapons  of  oratory.  A  great 
pity  we  have  not  English  names  for  them — a  long  word, 
unmeaning  to  all  but  classical  scholars,  though  it  may  be 
taken  direct  from  the  most  refined  of  languages,  being  to 
an  English,  a  Celtic,  or  an  American  ear  nothing  better 
than  a  barbarism.  Joseph  Addison,  in  one  of  his  wonder- 
fully graceful  papers  in  the  Spectator — which  renowned 
periodical  was  begun  in  1710  and  discontinued  in  1714 — 
thus  ridicules  these  names  so  overrun  with  syllables  :  "  I 
remember  a  country  schoolmaster  of  my  acquaintance 
told  me  once  that  he  had  been  in  company  with  a  gen- 
tleman whom' he  looked  upon  to  be  the  greatest  para- 
grammatist  among  the  moderns.  Upon  inquiry,  I  found 
my  learned  friend  had  dined  that  day  with  Mr.  Swan,  the 


xl  Introduction. 

famous  punster ;  and  desiring  him  to  give  me  some  ac- 
count of  Mr.  Swan's  conversation,  he  told  me  that  he 
generally  talked  in  the  Paronomasia  ;  that  he  sometimes 
gave  into  the  Ploce  ;  but  that,  in  his  humble  opinion,  he 
shined  most  in  the  Antanaclasis."  We  pledge  ourselves, 
however,  to  explain  very  thoroughly  every  crabbed  many- 
syllabled  term  we  introduce,  and  to  illustrate  each  from 
our  great  authors,  by  examples  as  radiant  as  genius  and 
merriment  can  make  them.  We  shall  use,  too,  English 
names  as  far  as  we  possibly  can,  giving  the  Greek  names 
at  the  same  time.  For  all  science  uses,  more  and  more, 
Greek  nomenclature — so  utterly  mistaken  are  the  narrow 
minds  who  call  the  language  of  the  undying  Greeks,  con- 
temptuously, a  dead  language. 

A  figure  is  a  form  —  a  word  or  words  thrown  into  a 
peculiar  form.  A  word  is  used  figuratively  when  it  is 
brought  forward  in  a  form,  construction,  or  application 
different  from  its  first  or  its  simplest  form,  construction, 
or  application.  Thus,  when  we  speak  of  the  head  of  an 
animal,  we  use  the  word  "  head  "  in  its  literal  and  first 
signification,  as  meaning  that  part  of  the  body  in  which 
are  placed  the  eyes,  nose,  and  so  forth ;  but  when  we 
speak  of  the  head  of  an  army,  we  think  of  the  resem- 
blance between  an  army  and  an  animal's  body,  as  to  the 
highest  or  most  prominent  part  in  the  animaland  in  the 
army,  and  then  we  apply  the  name  of  that  part  of  the 
animal  to  the  similar  part  of  the  army.  In  the  same  way, 
the  dawn  and  the  twilight  mean  originally  the  earliest 
and  latest  parts  of  the  day ;  but  figuratively  these  two 
terms  are  applied  to  the  earliest  and  latest  parts  of  other 
things — as  the  dawn  of  bliss,  the  twilight  hours  of  life. 
You  see  at  once  that  forms  or  figures  are  often  the  fruits 
of  that  prolific  faculty  of  association  which  so  strongly  in- 


Introduction.  xli 

fluences  the  mind.  The  ordinary  names,  qualities,  and 
acts  of  things  are  ascribed  to  other  things  with  which 
they  are  associated  in  time  or  place,  or  by  the  tie  of  cause 
and  effect,  or  by  the  perception  of  delicate  and  beautiful 
resemblances  that  flicker  on  the  surface  or  that  centre 
in  the  heart  of  objects ;  so  that  thus  figures  can  give  to 
things  otherwise  cold  and  dark  a  lustre  and  a  glow 
caught  from  the  fairest  or  sublimest  existences  of  earth 
or- sky.  To  employ  a  word  with  a  figurative  force  is  as 
good  as  to  add  a  new  term  to  the  language — a  term 
dipped  in  the  richest  rose-hues  of  fancy,  or  coming  on 
us  with  a  sudden,  delightful  surprise,  all  twinkling  with 
the  rapid  flashings  of  wit.  To  say  of  Venice  that  it  is  a 
city  half  land,  half  water,  is  a  very  plain  statement. 
Washington  Irving,  in  his  "  Geoffrey  Crayon's  Tales  of  a 
Traveler,"  which,  like  his  "  Life  of  Washington,"  gives 
by  no  means  a  great  impression  of  power,  puts  it  thus : 
"  Venice,  that  mermaid  of  a  city."  You  perceive  that 
our  American  Addison  was  led  to  call  the  Queen  of  the 
Adriatic  a  mermaid  from  this  point  of  resemblance  be- 
tween that  creature  and  Venice,  that  both  have  a  double 
nature — one  nature  belonging  to  the  land,  the  other  to 
the  sea.  If  we  say,  "  Our  present  sufferings,  by  improv- 
ing us,  will  give  peace  and  virtue  in  the  future,"  this 
would  be  language  as  plain  as  it  can  be  made.  In  the 
closing  sentiment  of  Dr.  Brown's  tragedy  of  Barbarossa 
the  same  truth  is  flung  into  this  form  : 

"  The  heavens  but  try  our  virtue  by  affliction, 
And  oft  the  cloud  which  wraps  the  present  hour 
Serves  but  to  brighten  all  our  future  days." 

To  say  that  a  swollen  river  produces  a  strange  noise 
at  midnight  is  literally  true.    John  Home,  in  his  standard 


xlii  Introduction. 

tragedy  of  Douglas,  makes  a  peasant  hear  the  water- 
kelpie  shriek ;  for  fancy  and  fear  whisper  that  the  mid- 
night stream  dashes  with  the  cry  of  a  wild  and  angry 
spirit : 

"  One  stormy  night,  as  I  remember  well, 
The  wind  and  rain  beat  hard  upon  our  roof; 
Red  came  the  river  down  ;  and  loud  and  oft 

The  angry  spirit 'of  the  water  shrieked." 

» 

Take  an  extract  from  the  great  heart  of  Dr.  Chalmers ; 
mark  the  numerous  figures  to  which  his  zeal  for  the 
truth  constantly  hurries  him : 

"  There  must  be  a  sad  mistake  somewhere.  The  commission 
put  into  our  hands  is  to  go  arid  preach  the  Gospel  to  every 
creature  under  heaven  ;  and  the  announcement  sounded  forth 
from  heaven's  vault  was,  'Peace  on  earth;  good  will  to  man.' 
There  is  no  freezing  limitation  here ;  but  a  largeness  and  mu- 
nificence of  mercy  boundless  as  space— free  and  open  as  the 
expanse  of  the  firmament.  We  can  not  doubt  that  the  time  of 
the  complete  emancipation  of  Christianity  is  coming,  when  it 
shall  break  loose  from  the  imprisonment  in  which  it  is  held ; 
but  meanwhile  there  is,  as  it  were,  a  stricture  upon  it,  not  yet 
wholly  removed,  in  virtue  of  which  the  largeness  and  liberality 
of  Heaven's  own  purposes  have  been  made  to  descend  in  par- 
tial and  scanty  droppings  through  the  strainers  of  an  artificial 
theology ;  instead  of  falling,  as  they  ought,  in  a  universal  shower 
upon  the  world." 

The  above  extract  is  from  Chalmers's  "  Institutes  of 
Theology,"  which  we  recommend  highly.  There  is  often 
in  Chalmers's  style  a  lumbering  want  of  classical  finish, 
especially  in  his  "  Lectures  on  the  Romans ;"  but  in  his 
"Institutes"  this  fault  is  almost  wholly  absent,  while 
every  paragraph  glows  with  that  deep-seated  warmth  of 


^  Introduction.  xliii 

eloquence  which  so  greatly  distinguishes  him  among  di- 
vines. Especially  read  his  "  Commercial  Discourses  "  and 
his  "Astronomical  Discourses."  The  latter  had  a  circu- 
lation when  they  first  appeared  as  great  as  Scott's  Wav- 
erley  Novels  had  at  first — an  invaluable  hint  to  our  pulpit 
instructors  to  come  forward  as  the  chief  popularizers  of 
science.  To  do  so,  means  not  that  Christ  is  to  be  sub- 
ordinated to  science,  but  that  science  delights  to  be  in 
accord  with  him,  and  yearns,  unconstrained,  to  do  him 
honor. 

We  are  proving  that  figures  are  most  ornamental,  and 
are  a  growth  of  nature ;  as  much  so  as  the  violets  of 
spring  or  the  rays  of  dawn.  That  they  are  natural  and 
instinctive,  take  an  incident  which  we  find  in  that  delight- 
ful work,  Lord  Campbell's  "  Lives  of  the  Lord  Chancel- 
lors of  England."  There  is  a  figure,  ycleped  Litotes,  or 
Lessening,  which  Sir  Thomas  More's  Fool  uses,  proving 
that,  both  to  grave  divines  and  to  jesters,  to  use  figures 
comes  as  natural  as  to  breathe : 

"  Yesterday  while  we  were  dining,"  saith  the  ever-merry  and 
ever-wise  Sir  Thomas,  "  Pattison,  the  fool,  seeing  a  guest  with 
a  very  large  nose,  said,  *  There  is  one  at  table  who  has  been 
trading  to  the  Promontory  of  Noses.'  All  eyes  were  turned  to 
the  great  nose,  though  we  discreetly  preserved  silence,  that  the 
good  man  might  not  be  abashed.  Pattison,  perceiving  the  mis- 
take he  had  made,  tried  to  set  himself  right,  and  said  :  '  He 
lies  who  says  the  gentleman's  nose  is  large ;  for,  on  the  faith 
of  a  true  knight,  it  is  rather  a  small  one.'  At  this,  all  being  in- 
clined to  laugh,  I  made  signs  for  the  fool  to  be  turned  out  of 
the  room.  But  Pattison,  who  boasted  that  he  brought  every 
affair  that  he  commenced  to  a  happy  conclusion,  resisted ;  and, 
placing  himself  in  my  seat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  said  aloud, 
with  my  tone  and  gesture :  *  There  is  one  thing  I  would  have 


xliv  Introduction.  f 

you  to  know — that  gentleman  there  has  not  the  least  bit  of  nose 
on  his  face.' " 

Mark  how  unaffected,  buoyant,  elastic,  is  the  prose  of 
this  great,  good  man,  as  far  back  as  the  time  of  Henry 
VIII.,  earlier  than  the  birth  of  Shakespeare.  Little  good 
English  prose  will  you  find  sooner  than  this.  The  first 
prose  work  published  in  England  was  Sir  John  Mande- 
ville's  "  Travels." 

Figures  of  speech,  then,  it  is  proved,  are,  when  they 
are  worth  writing,  pre-eminently  natural  and  decorative, 
as  are  the  dew-drops  on  the  grass,  or  the  frost-work  on 
the  window.  But  they  are  far  more:  often  they  are  a 
necessity  of  argument,  of  truth,  of  reason,  of  religion. 
Absolutely  impossible  is  it,  in  many  cases,  to  set  forth 
what  is  mental  save  through  words  originally  descriptive 
of  outward  and  material  things,  but  applied  to  things 
mental  from  some  resemblance  in  nature  or  in  effects — 
yes,  in  effects  between  the  outward  and  the  inward. 
Thus  we  speak  of  the  light  of  thought,  the  warmth  of 
indignation,  the  chill  of  fear ;  we  use  such  expressions  as 
iron  firmness,  melting  affection,  piercing  judgment ;  nay, 
in  Holy  Scripture,  the  Supreme  One  hath  to  be  depicted 
with  natural  organs,  not  from  any  tendency  to  ascribe  a 
body  to  God — the  Hebrew  idea  of  the  unity  of  Jeho- 
vah, an  idea  which  forms  the  most  sublime  and  most 
peculiar  historic  fact  in  ancient  history,  rises  starry  high 
above  the  notion  of  his  having  a  body — but  simply  be- 
cause the  All-Encircling  could  otherwise  be  scarcely  at 
all  described  to  such  as  we  are,  to  whom,  from  our  in- 
fancy, matter,  inexhaustibly  suggestive  anpl  teeming  .with 
the  thoughts  of  Deity,  has  been  eloquently  offering  its 
wondrous  forms  as  emblems,  illustrations,  hieroglyphics 
of  the  spiritual.  This  subject  of  figures  and  rhetoric 


Introduction.  xlv 

runs  up  to  the  Divine,  and  hath  its  roots  in  God.  There- 
fore the  language  of  the  Old  Testament,  matchless  in 
grandeur,  massiveness,  simplicity,  is  the  language  of  com- 
mon-sense and  universal  feeling.  Nothing  can  be  more 
manifest  than  that  the  Great  Thinker  intended  to  utter 
forth  the  thoughts  of  his  mind  by  the  works  of  his 
hand — here,  by  a  mountain's  mass  ;  there,  by  an  ocean's 
flow ;  at  our  feet,  by  the  glinting  of  a  flower ;  over  our 
heads,  by  the  geometric  curves  of  a  system.  Matter  and 
mind  must  be  interwoven  ;  language  must  be  continually 
busying  itself  to  express  these  twain,  and  the  one  of 
them  by  the  other.  From  the  deepest  sources  it  follows, 
not  from  trivial  causes,  as  many  dream,  that  human  speech 
must  be  full  of  figures ;  and  these  figures,  so  mind-like 
often  is  matter,  so  far  from  obscuring  the  truth,  set  it  forth 
with  far  more  graphic  vigor,  nay,  even  with  far  greater  ac- 
curacy. Mark  what  we  say — with  far  greater  accuracy 
(Zech.  ii.,  8).  We  in  the  cities  of  the  nineteenth  century 
can  not  speak  of  the  Vast  Pervader  with  more  philosophic 
wisdom  than  did  the  noble  Emir  Abraham  under  his  oak- 
shaded  tent ;  we,  too,  have  to  revere  that  Eye  and  lean 
on  that  Hand.  It  can  not  but  be,  then,  that  the  Great 
Book  of  religion  must  be  the  great  book  of  figures. 

By  no  means  are  figures  confined  to  savage  or  half- 
savage  life  :  they  are  the  result  of  every  fervid  passion  or 
tender  feeling  that  quickens  the  eye  of  the  heart  or  sets 
the  intellect  aglow.  But  it  has  been  argued  that  figura- 
tive language  must  continually,  in  the  course  of  ages,  be 
becoming  less  and  less  vivid  ;  for  it  is  at  a  very  early  pe- 
riod in  the  formation  of  a  language  that  words  which  at 
first  were  descriptive  of  things  external  were  used  to  de- 
scribe mind  ;  and  in  the  course  of  long  usage  such  terms 
lose  all  their  liveliness— ^they  cease  to  be  felt  as  figures. 


xlvi  Introduction. 

We  speak  of  a  person's  Yankee  sharpness  of  mind,  or  we 
say  his  heart  is  hard,  without  our  feeling  more  in  the 
phrase  than  the  most  commonplace  statement.  It  is 
manifest  that  thus  through  long  handling  a  large  num- 
ber of  figures  can  not  but  lose  all  their  force  as  figures; 
and  so  some  writers,  prominent  among  whom  is  Lord 
Macaulay,  have  rushed  to  the  conclusion  that  language 
must  constantly  be  growing  less  poetic,  less  picture-like. 
But  such  tendency  is  far  more  than  counterbalanced  by 
the  inventive,  quick-discovering,  keenly  observant  ener- 
gy of  imagination  and  the  heart — ever  finding  out  new 
ties,  new  points  of  association  between  one  object  and 
another.  And  so,  while  spring  carpets  the  earth  with 
leafage  and  youth  ;  while  contentment  and  good  temper 
beam  from  the  face  of  sisters  and  mothers ;  while  there 
are  warm  hearts,  summer  flowers,  and  streams  that  sing 
under  apple  blossoms ;  while  mountain-peaks  converse 
with  heaven,  and  the  North  Star  guides  the  seafarer ; 
while  original  genius  sees  that  in  the  daisy  with  Burns 
or  hears  that  in  the  skylark  with  Shelley  which  no  one 
till  that  moment  ever  saw  or  heard — no  fear  of  language 
losing  its  freshness  on  the  whole,  or  its  sheen  of  poesy. 
Nay,  as  in  the  progress  of  man,  as  Discovery,  like  a  might- 
ier Columbus,  unfolds  Nature's  glorious  or  lovely  secrets, 
and  whole  worlds  that  are  new,  Science  itself  will  ever 
be  supplying  to  fancy  new  materials. 

It  is  a  fact,  than  which  none  is  more  important,  con- 
tinually to  be  borne  in  mind  if  we  would  attain  a  wise 
creed,  that  no  public  speaker  ever  used  figures  more 
abundantly  than  the  Christ.  How  else  could  he  have 
discoursed  of  the  inward  struggle  against  sin?  of  the 
beauties  that  shine  in  duty  and  in  God  ?  of  the  undying 
principles  of  truth  and  providence  ?  On  the  text,  seem- 


Introduction.  xlvii 

ingly  so  simple,  "  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth,  and  the 
life,"  Daniel  de  Superville,  eminent  as  a  French  Protest- 
ant preacher,  thus  expresses  himself: 

"That  the  language  of  Jesus  is  evidently  figurative  can  not 
be  doubted.  Here  you  perceive  how  very  familiar  and  com- 
mon the  use  of  figurative  terms  was  with  Him,  even  when  He 
was  conversing  with  His  dearest  disciples,  with  a  view  to  their 
instruction  and  consolation.  Such  modes  of  expression  serve 
to  convey  an  idea  with  more  vividness  and  power,  and  in  fewer 
words  than  could  be  done  by  simple  terms.  There  is  some- 
thing at  once  far  more  concise  and  energetic  in  Jesus  calling 
Himself '  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life  '  than  if  He  had  simply 
described  Himself  as  the  guide  to  heaven,  the  teacher  of  truth, 
and  the  giver  of  life." 

Thus  the  study  of  figures  has  an  emphatic  bearing  on 
religion,  and  will  bring  into  brilliant  and  unexpected  view 
certain  remarkable  peculiarities,  never  before  pointed  out, 
in  the  intellect  of  the  Saviour. 

Let  us  hang  around  the  portal  of  this  work  a  bunch  of 
miscellaneous  figures,  in  the  hope  that  their  fragrance 
may  allure  you  to  enter.  How  many  can  be  understood 
and  enjoyed  by  the  commonest  minds ! 

Hear  Henry  Ward  Beecher  —  he  speaks  a  universal 
dialect : 

"  You  need  not  break  the  glasses  of  a  telescope,  or  coat  them 
over  with  paint,  in  order  to  prevent  you  from  seeing  through 
them.  Just  breathe  upon  them,  and  the  dew  of  your  breath 
will  shut  out  all  the  stars.  So  it  does  not  require  great  crimes 
to  hide  the  light  of  God's  countenance :  little  faults  can  do  it 
just  as  well." 

Or  saith  he— 

"  The  mother's  heart  is  the  child's  school-room." 


xlviii  Introduction. 

Or  again — 

"  It  is  not  well  for  a  man  to  pray  cream  and  live  skim-milk." 

6r  we  open  that  perfect  poem,  Tennyson's  "  Enoch 
Arden."  It  contains  a  famous  line,  meant  to  utter  forth 
the  sound  made  by  the  rush  of  waves  on  the  beach — a 
use  of  words  termed  Onomatopoeia,  or,  as  we  would  call 
it,  sound-painting : 

"The  league-long  roller  thundering  on  the  reif.'' 

Douglas  Jerrold's  epitaph  on  Charles  Knight  was — 

"Good  Night!" 

When  the  fool-hardy  and  atheistic  letters  of  Thomas 
Atkinson  and  Miss  Martineau  appeared,  he  observed  that 
the  creed  of  the  twain  was — 

"There  is  no  God,  and  Miss  Martineau  is  his  prophet." 

For  a  fine  ellipsis,  mark  the  close  of  the  following  pas- 
sage from  the  sublime  and  thunderous  prose  of  Milton. 
He  is  discoursing  of  how  an  epic  must  be  prepared : 

"  A  work  not  to  be  raised  from  the  heat  of  youth  or  the 
vapors  of  wine ;  nor  to  be  obtained  of  dame  Memory  and  her 
siren  daughters ;  but  by  devout  prayer  to  that  Eternal  Spirit 
who  can  enrich  with  all  utterance  and  knowledge,  and  sends 
out  his  seraphim  with  the  hallowed  fire  of  his  altar,  to  touch 
and  purify  the  lips  of  whom  he  pleases." 

Mimesis,  or  mimicry,  we  give  next,  from  a  work  of 
great  ability, "  Hans  Breitman's  Ballads,"  written  in  Penn- 
sylvania Dutch — a  work  of  humor  by  Mr.  Leland,  quite 
in  the  American  style — and  humor  every  where  must 
have  in  it  "  the  flavor  of  character."  The  captain,  Hans, 
is  captured  by  the  rebels : 

"  Dey  shtripped  off  his  goat,  and  skyugglecl  his  poots ; 
Dey  dressed  him  mit  rags  of  a  repel  recruits ; 


Introduction.  xlix 

But  von  gray-hair'd  oldt  feller  shmiled  grimly,  and  bet 
That  Breitman  vouldt  pe  a  pad  egg  for  dem  yet. 
"  He  has  more  in  ish  pipe  as  dem  vellers  allows ; 
He  has  cardts  yet  in  hand  und  das  spiel  ist  nicht  aus ; 
Dey'll  find  dat  cley  dock  in  der  teufel  to  poard 
De  day  dey  pooFd  Breitman  veil  ofer  de  ford." 

Good  Matthew  Henry,  in  his  "  Commentary,"  found  it 
necessary  to  employ  a  figure  when  he  said — 

"How  delightful  it  is  to  have  the  bird  in  the  bosom  sing 
sweetly." 

And  Bowes  had  to  resort  to  one  in  his  "  Illustrative 
•Gatherings"  when  he  wrote — 

"  The  Christian  who  has  put  aside  his  religion  because  he  is 
in  worldly  company  is  like  a  man  who  has  put  off  his  shoes 
because  he  is  walking  among  thorns." 

In  concluding  this  Introduction,  we  urge  upon  you  six 
points,  valuable  in  bringing  this  subject  before  us : 

1.  Seek  not  to  disparage  the  claims  of  the  Greek  and 
Latin  classics,  in  order,  forsooth,  to  clear  the  way  for  the 
fuller  study  of  English.     Though  nothing  were  said  of 
them  as  masterpieces  of  style,  what  incomparable  aid 
they  give  toward  the  acquisition  of  our  own  English ! 
We  meet  in  Virgil  the  Latin  verb  cano.     We  hunt  it  up 
in  a  lexicon ;  but  there  it  may  have  fifteen  or  twenty 
English  words  by  which  it  is  translated.    The  young  stu- 
dent has  therefore  to  discover  which  of  these  translations 
suits  the  context  best ;  that  is,  he  has  forced  on  him  the 
very  close  study  of  all  these  fifteen  English  words. 

2.  It  is  a  duty  and  a  delight,  which  we  assure  you  will 
accompany  the  students  of  this  volume  from  beginning 
to  end,  to  mark  the  thousand  forms  of  music  that  teem 
in  our  language,  both  in  prose  and  poetry.    Are  you  un- 

D 


1  s         Introduction. 

der  the  delusion  that  only  in  poetry  is  cadence  found  ? 
The  prose  of  our  great  prose  writers,  such  as  Milton, 
Dryden,  South,  Jeremy  Taylor,  Addison,  Burke,  Ruskin, 
overflows  with  melody,  in  their  single  words  and  in  the 
wondrously  cunning  structure  of  their  sentences ;  while 
English  poetry  is  capable  of  as  many  varieties  of  meas- 
ure  as  hath  Horace  himself — nay,  even  when  the  meas- 
ure is  deemed  by  the  uninitiated  to  be  one,  it  is  actually 
shaping  its  flow  into  many  a  variety  of  break,  eddy,  and 
ripple.  For  proof  of  this,  turn  to  the  opening  of  "  Para- 
dise Lost,"  quoted  at  page  149.  The  cesural  pause  is 
varied  with  consummate  art,  rather  with  a  seraphic  in- 
stinct, in  almost  every  one  of  the  twenty-five  marvelous 
opening  lines  :  as  after  the  words  disobedience,  tree, 
world,  Eden,  us,  must,  Sinai,  shepherd,  and  so  on  ;  from 
which  changes,  inimitably  sweet,  arise  the  melodies  that 
emanate  from  Milton's  pages  ;  as  in  a  mighty  forest  each 
great  tree  sways,  in  the  wind  of  June,  with  a  motion  and 
a  rustling  of  its  foliage  peculiar  to  itself. 

To  start  at  once  your  training  as  a  lover  of  the  melo- 
dious, we  place  before  you  a  few  single  lines  remarkable 
for  their  sweetness.  Burns  says  of  Tarn  O'Shanter  that, 
in  his  celebrated  midnight  gallop,  he  was 

"  Whiles  crooning  o'er  some  auld  Scotch  sonnet." 
This  is  exactly  the  process  whereto  you  should  addict 
yourself.  "  Croon  "  over  each  of  the  subjoined,  one  hun- 
dred times  to  begin  with.  Notice  how  front-rhyme,  or 
alliteration,  intensifies  the  melody — helps  the  honey,  as 
it  were,  to  cling  to  the  lip  : 

"  Sonorous  metal  breathing  martial  sounds." — Milton. 
"Like  a  glow-worm  golden  in  a  dell  of  dew." — Shelley. 
"  Blaw  saft  ye  westlin'  winds,  blaw  saft ;  bring  hame  the  laden 
bees." — Burns. 


Iniroduction,  li 

"  It  was  an  Abyssinian  maid,  and  on  her  dulcimer  she  played, 
Singing  of  Mount  Abora."* 

"The  splendor  falls  on  castle  walls, 

And  snowy  summits  old  in  story ; 
The  long  light  shakes  across  the  lakes, 

And  the  wild  cataract  leaps  in  glory." — Tennyson. 

3.  Another  point  to  have  fixed  here  at  the  outset  of 
these  special  studies  is  to  specify  the  smallest  appara- 
tus of  books  that  is  essential  to  the  subject.    First,  the 
Bible  ;    second,  Shakespeare  ;  third,  Paradise  Lost.     To 
Demosthenes,  also,  freshly  translated  by  your  author, 
very  frequently  will  reference  be  made,  and  to  the  words 
of  Jesus,  that  coruscate  with  figures,  especially  such  fig- 
ures as  take  for  granted  the  responsibility,  the  free  will, 
and  the  great  faculties  of  man.     We  will  use  these  ab- 
breviations throughout  these  pages:    S.  and  P.  L.,  for 
two  of  the  authorities  just  named. 

4.  You  can  not  too  soon  form  a  very  high  opinion  of 
the  many  high  qualities  of  the  one-syllabled  words  of 
our  tongue.    The  quickest  way  to  get  into  such  an  opin- 
ion is  for  each  reader  to  go  a-botanizing,  and  form  a  her- 
barium of  at  least  a  hundred  such  lines.     Exquisitely 
will  you  be  rewarded.     We  have  collected  a  few.     Ten- 
nyson especially  abounds  in  them.     As  all  words,  in  all 
languages,  were  at  first  one-syllabled,  so  it  would  appear 
as  if  it  were  an  instinct  of  genius  and  mental  vigor  to  try 
to  get  back  to  these  monosyllables,  in  which  the  mus- 

•  cular  strength  and  lurking  music  of  our  great  language 
not  a  little  lie.  Admire  with  an  intense  enjoyment  the 
ivory  finish,  the  fairy-like,  delicate  polish  and  vocalization 
of  the  lines  we  refer  to.  Your  gathering,  of  a  hundred 
of  them  will,  of  itself,  entitle  you  to  be  named  a  person 


lii  Introduction. 

of  exquisite  taste  ;  while  you  will  have  in  your  posses- 
sion a  pellucid  fountain  of  enjoyment  the  most  refined. 

"The  sun  is  up,  and  'tis  a  morn  of  May." — Leigh  Hunt. 

"  The  moon  is  up,  and  yet  it  is  not  night." — Byron. 

"  God  wept !     The  tear  he  shed,  its  name  was  Christ."- 
Author. 

"  Where  are  the  songs  of  spring  ?     Ah,  where  are  they  ? 
We  wail  the  wants  that  oft  wait  on  the  Muse." — Heywood. 

"On  that  lone  shore  loud  moans  the  sea." — Wild. 

"He  of  his  port  was  meek  as  is  a  maid." — Chaucer's  Knight. 

"  Oh,  it  came  o'er  mine  ear  like  the  sweet  South." — Shakespeare. 

"  Through  the  dear  might  of  Him  that  walked  the  waves." — 
Milton. 

"So  runs  the  round  of  life  from  hour  to  hour." — Tennyson. 
"  We  miss  thy  small  step  on  the  stair." — Macbeth  Moir. 

"  Thou  hadst  a  voice  whose  sound  was  like  the  sea." —  Words- 
worths  Milton. 

"  Oh,  think  on  all  my  love,  on  all  my  woe." — Campbell. 
"  He  thought  as  a  sage,  yet  he  felt  as  a  man." 
"  God  swells  the  roar  of  sea  on  rock  and  reef, 
Tunes  the  brook's  lay  of  love,  the  lark's  light  trill." — Author. 

"How  deft  his  touch,  who  rounds  and  wheels  the  worlds  !" — 
Author. 

"Not  aught  on  earth  that  doth  not  change,  save  change." — 
Author. 

"  Oh,  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams  may  come." — Shake- 
speare" 

"  Show  to  the  sun  their  wav'd  coats  dropt  with  gold." — Milton. 
"  As  far  at  sea  is  seen  a  peak  of  And, 
Its  base  in  cloud,  but  o'er  its  top  the  sun  ; 
So  God,  though  wrapt  in  dusk,  yet  crown'd  with  Christ ! 


Introduction.  liii 

And  so  we're  sure,  as  Love's  great  day  rolls  on, 

The  clouds  will  lift,  and  vales  of  Prime  be  shown." — Author. 

"With  how  sad  steps,  O  Moon,  thou  climb'st  the  skies — 
How  silently,  and  with  how  wan  a  face  !" — Sir  Philip  Sidney. 

5.  That  department  of  Rhetoric,  or  Art  of  Discourse, 
which  is  by  far  the  most  important,  is  Invention.     The 
ignoring  of  this  department  in  recent  times  has  pitiably 
degraded  rhetoric.    An  intimate  knowledge  of  the  figures 
in  this  volume  will  greatly  quicken  and  happily  guide 
your  powers  of  invention.    We  lately  asked  our  pastor, 
who  had  the  previous  Sunday,  in  a  sermon  on  the  para- 
ble of  the  sower,  divided  it  into  three  heads — the  soil, 
the  seed,  the  sower — what  led  him  to  that  division,  which 
to  be  admired  has  but  to  be  heard.    "Alliteration  helped 
a  good  deal,"  replied  he,  "  for  I  wished  the  heads  of  dis- 
course at  least  to  be  remembered ;  and  I  knew  that  al- 
literation would  much  help  to  fix  them  in  my  people's 
minds."     So  with  other  figures :  a  knowledge  of  them 
will  much  aid  you  to  invent  impressive  ways  of  speech 
— a  momentous  consideration. 

6.  With  a  principle  that  soars  very  high,  but  not  to  be 
on  that  account  disliked  or  suspected,  let  us  close  our 
Introduction.     Not  even  will  our  painful  feeling  of  per- 
sonal unfitness  shut  our  mouths.     As  Jesus  is  the  em- 
bodiment of  the  highest  truth  in  morals  and  religion,  so 
is  he  the  personation  of  the  noblest  poesy.     The  har- 
monies of  Handel  and  of  Beethoven,  every  sublimest 
minster  and  cathedral,  the  epics  of  Dante  and  of  Milton, 
attest  the  imperial  sway  which  Christ  so  strangely  yet  so 
undeniably  puts  forth  over  the  realms  of  intellect.     As 
from  the  Cross  comes  a  worship  destined  to  dethrone 
every  other,  so  comes  from  that  Cross,  too,  a  literature 


liv  Introduction. 

to  outglow  every  other  literature.  Not  the  highest  view 
this  of  the  mission  of  the  Messiah,  yet  a  view  worthy 
and  interesting.  In  the  same  way,  the  most  essential 
conception  of  the  Deity  is  as  the  holy  God  who  hates 
sin,  and  as  the  Father  God  who  loves  souls.  Yet  it  is  de- 
lightful, too,  to  mark  how  Jehovah  rejoices  in  the  beau- 
tiful ;  else  why  does  he  tint  the  sea-shell  with  such  love- 
ly colors,  and  wreathe  the  mountain -mists  into  such 
graceful  forms?  And  so,  as  we  might  anticipate  of  one 
who  is  peculiarly  the  Son  of  God,  wherever  Jesus  treads, 
though  his  feet  be  weary  or  bleeding,  yet  the  Beautiful 
springs  from  his  footprints,  like  the  violet  from  the  tears 
of  evening.  Let  us  gather  around  his  cradle,  as  the  shep- 
herds and  the  magi  worship  there,  and  yon  strange  me- 
teor looks  wondering  down,  and  the  last  notes  of  the 
angel  choir  die  away  far  up  in  heaven,  and  deny  it  if  you 
can  that  exquisite  poesy  hovers  around  the  Saviour.  Or 
think  of  him  giving  back  her  son  to  the  mother -heart 
of  the  widow  of  Nain ;  or,  empire  on  his  brow,  death 
under  his  feet,  uttering  at  the  door  of  the  sepulchre 
these  words  of  command,  "  Lazarus,  come  forth  ;"  or  on 
the  midnight  lake,  saying  to  Gloom  and  Tempest, "  Peace, 
be  still !"  or  see  him  like  a  great  chief,  who  wraps 
around  him,  to  die  in  it,  a  death-mantle  worthy  of  him— 
for  the  gloom  of  the  eclipse  was  Christ's  death-mantle. 
The  sublime  floats  around  him  like  a  luminous  mist 
around  a  sun  that  sets.  Beyond  measure  he  the  most 
poetic  personage  that  ever  walked  the  earth — grand  cen- 
tral Figure  of  that  mightiest  of  all  epics,  the  epic  of 
Human  Redemption,  whereof  every  other  epic  is  but  a 
slight  episode.  From  him  must  come  the  brightest  in- 
spirations of  poetry ;  he  must  be  the  living  soul  of  any 
literature  that  is  fit  to  shine  on  that  path  which  we  walk 
toward  the  stars. 


THE  MIGHT  AND 

i 

MIRTH  OF  LITERATURE 


CHAPTER  I. 

FIGURES  OF  ETYMOLOGY. 
PART    FIRST. 

FIGURES  are  of  three  kinds:  Figures  of  Spelling  or 
Etymology,  alterations  of  the  original  spelling  of  words ; 
figures  of  Syntax,  alterations  of  the  original  construction 
of  words ;  figures  of  Rhetoric,  deviations  from  the  orig- 
inal application  of  words,  the  moulding  of  them  into 
those  forms  which  the  more  energetic  moods  of  the 
mind  require. 

Figures  of  Etymology  are  lowest  in  importance,  but 
they  come  first  to  be  considered.  We  are  thus  constrain- 
ed to  begin  with  the  least  interesting  part  of  our  subject. 
We  can  not  put  our  best  foot  foremost.  However,  these 
chapters  will  and  must,  on  this  very  account,  rise  in  in- 
terest as  we  proceed.  Yet  even  of  Etymological  figures 
admirable  use  can  be  made :  even  they  can  impart  an  in- 
expressible charm  and  delicacy  to  language. 

I.  Front-cut,  or  Aphseresis,  very  common  in  Allan 
Ramsay,  Burns,  Tannahill,  and  other  Scottish  bards,  is 


56  Might  andt'vMif'th  of  Literature. 

the  cutting  off  one  or  more  letters  from  the  beginning 
of  a  word :  as  'ghast  for  aghast,  'mazed  for  amazed,  'fore 
for  before,  'feeble  for  enfeeble;  as  in  Douglas  Jerrold's 
description  of  a  scoundrel :  "  That  scoundrel,  sir !  why, 
he'd  sharpen  a  knife  upon  his  father's  tombstone  to  kill 
his  mother."  So  there  is  'dures  for  endures,  'front  for 
confront,  Venge  for  avenge,  'danger  for  endanger,  'tend 
for  attend,  'larms  for  alarms,  'scapes  for  escapes,  'proach- 
es  for  approaches,  'Nelope  for  Penelope,  'sdeigned  for 
disdained,  while  speculation  would  thus  be  an  honester 
word,  for  then  it  would  be  peculation.  Bret  Harte  tells 
us  of  what  goes  on  "down  in  'Frisco." 

Blind  Harry  is  a  name  well  remembered  in  Scotland. 
He  wrote  "  Sir  William  Wallace,"  a  poetical  biography 
of  the  national  chieftain  of  North  Britain.  We  have 
from  him  this  line : 

"  Wham  Thou's  thou,  Scot  ?     In  faith  thou  'serves  a  blow." 

In  the  old  form  of  the  immortal  ballad  of  "  Chevy 
Chace,"  written  some  time  between  1422  and  1461,  is 
this  line,  very  statuesque : 

"  The  Piercie  leaned  on  his  brand, 

And  saw  the  Douglas  dee : 
He  took  the  dead  man  by  the  hand, 
And  said, '  Woe's  me  for  Thee  !'  " 

We  carry  you  back  to  old  John  Gower,  a  contempora- 
ry of  the  great  English  poet,  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  though 
much  Chaucer's  inferior,  at  least  so  far  as  the  narrative 
in  the  Canterbury  Tales  is  concerned.  Some  of  Chau- 
cer's pieces  are  as  heavy  as  Gower's.  Gower  died  seven 
years  later  than  Chaucer.  We  quote  from  the  "  Confes- 
sio  Amantis  " — the  Lover's  Confession — an  exceedingly 
long  poem  in  English,  with  the  scantiest  possible  supply 
of  poesy  in  it,  but  very  valuable  from  the  light  it  throws 
on  the  history  of  the  language.  This  mass  of  lifeless 
doggrel  has  the  conscience  to  inflict  eight  books  on  us. 


Figures  of  Etymology.  5  7 

Considering  that  Parliament  was  opened  by  a  speech  in 
English  for  the  first  time  in  1362,  and  that  in  the  be- 
ginning of  the  fourteenth  century,  130x3,  the  national  lan- 
guage was  not  as  yet  more  than  new-born  to  the  Nor- 
mans, it  is  astonishing  that  this  author's  pen  gives  us  such 
good  English,  which  it  costs  so  little  trouble  to  read.  The 
poem  was  completed  about  1392;  Gower  died  in  1408. 
This,  his  bulkiest  work,  was  edited  in  1857,  by  Dr.  Rein- 
hold  Pauli,  in  three  volumes.  In  1300,  at  which  time  En- 
glish must  have  been  current  among  the  common  people, 
the  Court  and  the  Law  Courts  used  French  ;  the  Church, 
in  any  written  documents  it  issued,  used  Latin ;  Gower 
himself  wrote  several  of  his  works  in  Latin,  and  sev- 
eral in  French.  We  quote  from  his  Fifth  Book : 

"Thus  it  befell  upon  a  night 
Whan  there  was  nought  but  sterre  light, 
She  (Medea,  the  Witch)  was  vanisshed  right  as  her  list, 
That  no  wight  but  her  self  it  wist, 
And  that  was  ate  midnight  tide  ; 
The  world  was  still  on  every  side. 
With  open  hede  and  foot  all  bare 
Her  hare  to  sprad  she  gan  to  fare. 
Upon  her  clothes  girt  she  was,  . 
All  specheles,  and  on  the  gras 
She  glode  forth  as  an  adder  doth." 

Francis  Quarles,  whose  great  vigor  was  often  over- 
grown by  oddities,  is  the  writer  of  a  book  called  "  Quar- 
les's  Emblems,"  once  in  great  repute.  In  the  following 
significant  stanza  you  can  detect  the  Front-cuts : 

"  So  rich  is  man,  that  all  his  debts  being  paid 
His  wealth's  his  winding-sheet  wherein  he's  laid; 
So  young  is  man,  that,  broke  with  care  and  sorrow, 
He's  old  enough  to-day  to  die  to-morrow." 

From  an  epigram  by  Sir  John  Harrington,  we  take 
the  following,  a  favorable  specimen  of  the  writer's  abil- 
ity: 


58  Figures  of  Etymology. 

"  Treason  doth  never  prosper  !     What's  the  reason  ? 
For,  if  it  prosper,  none  dare  call  it  treason." 

In  the  subjoined,  the  author  of  this  volume  concludes 
with  'suage  for  assuage  : 

"  Let  Nature  lead  thee  with  her  sister  hand 
To  meditative  vales — to  Alps  God-fraught 
Let  mist-wrapt  cataracts,  sunrise-lighted  hills, 
Skies  piled  with  thunder,  Earth's  volcanic  thrills, 
Awe  thee  to  prayer  !     May  the  bright,  flute-voiced  stream, 
That  sooth'd  thy  boyhood  with  sweet  symphonies, 
Still  flow  harmonious  through  thy  heart  in  age, 
And  bring  thy  pillow  many  a  youthful  dream 
Of  childhood's  mates  and  thy  ancestral  trees. 
Ah !  sights  and  sounds  of  youth  Eld's  load  can  'suage, 
Like  young  birds  singing  in  a  rust-worn  cage." 

Ann  Collins  gives  us  'dure  for  endure : 

"  O  if  we  could  with  patience 

A  while  possess  the  mind, 
By  inward  consolations 

We  might  refreshing  find, 
To  sweeten  all  our  crosses, 

How  little  time  they  'dure  ! 
So  might  we  gain  by  losses, 

And  Sharp  would  Sweet  procure." 

On  a  certain  occasion  a  miscreant  threw  a  stone  at  the 
head  of  George  III.  of  England,  more  famous  for  his 
sound  moral  life  than  for  his  brilliant  intellect.  His  head 
was  popularly  considered  one  of  the  thickest  in  Europe. 
Dr.Wolcott  (Peter  Pindar,  his  "Pen-name")  wrote  the 
following,  on  the  idea  that  the  head  would  have  cracked 
the  stone : 

"  Talk  no  more  of  the  lucky  escape  of  the  head 

From  a  flint  so  unluckily  thrown ; 
I  think  very  different,  with  thousands  indeed — 
'Twas  a  lucky  escape  for  the  stone." 


Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature.  59 

George  P.  Morris  ranks  as  one  of  the  best  song-writers 
of  America.  Take  from  him  a  stanza  of  his  far-famed 
song — a  close  copy,  as  to  its  idea,  of  Thomas  Campbell's 
"  Beechen  Tree's  Petition  :" 

"  Woodman,  spare  that  tree  ! 

Touch  not  a  single  bough  ! 
1  In  youth  it  shelter'd  me, 

And  I'll  protect  it  now. 
'Twas  my  forefather's  hand 

That  placed  it  near  his  cot ; 
There,  woodman,  let  it  stand  : 
Thy  axe  shall  harm  it  not." 

A  pleasant  touch  of  bolder  aphaeresis  is  presented  by 
Michael  Drayton,  in  his  lengthy  geographical  poem,  the 
"  Polyolbion."  Of  Robin  Hood  he  speaks,  England's  fa- 
mous forest  outlaw : 

"Then,  'taking  them  to  rest,  his  merry  men  and  he 
Slept  many  a  summer  night  under  the  greenwood  tree." 

We  next  select  lines  by  Proctor,  who  has  written  much 
and  well  under  the  name  of  Barry  Cornwall.  These  lines 
you  will  find  in  "  Without  and  Within,  a  Lyric  of  Lon- 
don " — a  contrast  very  powerfully  drawn  : 

"  WITHOUT. 
"  The  outcast's  fame  was  her  doom  to-day — 

Despair  !  contempt !     By  to-morrow's  light 
The  roughen'd  boards  and  the  pauper's  pall ; 

And  so  she'll  be  flung  to  endless  night. 
Without  a  tear  or  a  human  sigh, 

She's  gone  !     Poor  life  and  its  fever  o'er ! 
So  let  her  in  dark  oblivion  lie, 
While  the  world  runs  merry  as  before. 

"  WITHIN. 
"  The  skies  are  wild  and  the  blast  is  cold  ; 

Loud  riot  and  luxury  brawl  within. 

Slaves  are  waiting,  in  crimson  and  gold, 

The  insolent  nod  of  a  leader  of  sin. 


60  Figures  of  Etymology. 

The  fire  is  crackling,  wine  is  bubbling 
Up  in  each  glass  to  the  beaded  brim; 

The  jesters  are  laughing,  the  parasites  quaffing, 
'  Happiness  !  honor  !'  and  all  for  him  !" 

It  was  so  usual  for  poets  to  be  in  debt  in  former  times, 
when  there  was  no  Great  Public  to  patronize  literature, 
that  the  following  is  told  both  of  Ben  Jonson,  Shakes- 
peare's intimate,  and  of  Burns's  precursor  in  Scotland,  the 
gifted  barber,  Allan  Ramsay.  A  creditor  assured  the 
poet  that  his  debt  would  be  canceled  if  he  told  him,  on 
the  spot  and  in  rhyme,  four  things  in  four  minutes  :  What 
God  is  best  pleased  with ;  what  the  devil  is  best  pleased 
with ;  and  what  the  world,  and  what  he,  his  creditor. 
Within  the  time  the  poet  wrote : 

"  God  is  best  pleased  when  men  forsake  their  sin ; 
The  devil's  best  pleased  when  they  persist  therein ; 
The  world's  best  pleased  when  riches  on  them  flow; 
And  you're  best  pleased  when  I  pay  what  I  owe." 

We  exemplify  this  figure  farther  from  a  pathetic  poem 
of  an  American  bard,  the  Rev.  John  Pierpont.  It  is  of 
his  son  he  speaks,  taken  from  him  by  death,  yet  whom  he 
can  not  feel  to  be  dead ;  or  rather  he  is  continually  for- 
getting that  the  boy  is  dead,  and  as  continually,  with  a 
bitter  start,  awakening  to  the  reality : 

"  I  walk  my  parlor  floor, 

And  through  the  open  door 
I  hear  a  footfall  on  the  chamber  stair ; 

I'm  stepping  toward  the  hall, 

To  give  the  boy  a  call — 
And  then  bethink  me  that  he  is  not  there." 

In  elegant  diction,  John  Lyly,  the  once  famous  Eu- 
phues,  describes  a  game  at  cards  between  his  Campaspe 
and  Cupid,  in  which  Cupid  loses  his  charms,  one  by  one, 
to  the  young  lady : 


Figures  of  Etymology.  61 

"  The  coral  of  his  lip,  the  rose 
Growing  on's  cheek  (but  how,  none  knows) ; 
With  these  the  dimple  of  his  chin — 
All  these  did  my  Campaspe  win." 

How  exquisitely  the  blissful  feeling  is  brought  out  in 
the  following,  by  John  Byrom,  that  aged  parents  grow 
young  again  in  their  children  : 

"How  should  Hove  the  pretty  creatures, 

While  round  my  knees  they  fondly  cling ! 
To  see  them  look  their  mother's  features, 

And  hear  them  lisp  their  mother's  tongue ! 
And  when  with  envy  Time  transported 

Shall  think  to  rob  us  of  our  joys, 
You'll  in  your  girls  again  be  courted, 

And  I'll  go  wooing  in  my  boys." 

The  poems  of  Sir  Robert  Ayton  were  reprinted  at  Ed- 
inburgh in  1844.  This  is  the  opening  verse  of  one  of  the 
best  of  his  pieces ;  at  least  it  is  ascribed  to  him  by  the 
modern  editor:  * 

"  I  do  confess  thou'rt  smooth  and  fair, 

And  I  might  have  gone  near  to  love  thee, 

Had  I  not  found  the  slightest  prayer 

That  lips  can  speak  had  power  to  move  thee ; 

But  I  can  let  thee  now  alone 

As  worthy  to  be  loved  by  none." 

Southern  embalms  for  us  a  deep  feeling  in  these  classic 
vrords : 

"  Could  I  forget 

What  I  have  been,  I  might  the  better  bear 
What  I  am  destined  to.     I'm  not  the  first 
That  have  been  wretched.     But,  to  think  how  much 
I  have  been  happier !" 

How  exquisite  the  line,  by  Thomas  Sackville,  Lord 
Buckhurst,  in  "  The  Mirror  of  Magistrates,"  the  best  En- 
glish poem  in  the  disastrous  190  years  between  Chau- 


62  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

cer  and  Spenser.  This  line  feels  to  us  unsurpassable. 
Please  make  a  study  of  it.  It  owes  a  very  great  deal  to 
the  humble  aid  of  front-cut.  We  have  not  words  to 
express  the  refined  delight  which  such  usages  of  lan- 
guage give  us.  Croon  it  over  at  least  a  hundred  and 
fifty  times.  How  alliteration,  too,  aids : 

"  The  darke  had  dimm'd  the  day  ere  I  was  'ware." 

We  lead  you  next  to  a  poet,  born  in  the  year  of  the 
glorious  Revolution,  whose  muse  never  visits  the  sublime 
summits  of  Nature,  such  as  Alps  or  Andes — never  gives 
voice  to  the  deeper  or  wilder  emotions — the  nightingale 
of  Twickenham,  Alexander  Pope,  that  "  Homer  in  a  nut- 
shell," unsurpassed  in  all  those  qualities  of  poesy  that 
rank  as  second  in  importance,  such  as  smoothness,  finish, 
consummate  tact,  compact  good  sense,  cutting  sarcasm 
ever  wielded  on  virtue's  side,  elegant  fancy,  sparkling 
wit.  Ruskin  has  said  that  the  two  most  accomplished 
artists,  merely  as  artists,  who  ever  wrote,  were  Virgil  and 
Pope,  and  that  "  the  *  Dunciad  '  of  the  latter  is  the  most 
absolutely  chiseled  and  monumental  work  in  our  lan- 
guage." Pope's  shining  intellect  was  cased  in  a  pigmy 
frame.  When  he  had  published  his  "  Dunciad  "  and  other 
satirical  pieces,  he  had  a  tall  Irishman,  armed  with  a  huge 
shillalah,  to  walk  behind  him  on  London  streets,  to  protect 
him  from  personal  violence.  Wharton  tells  us:  "  He  was 
protuberant  both  on  back  and  chest,  and  so  very  feeble 
as  not  to  be  able  to  dress  or  undress  himself  without  as- 
sistance, and  so  susceptible  of  cold  that  he  was  not  only 
wrapped  up  in  fur  and  flannel,  but  was  obliged  to  wear 
a  boddice  made  of  stiff  canvas  closely  laced  about  him." 
Yet  he,  whose  life  was  a  long  disease,  had  a  more  than 
triple  share  of  soul,  was  the  immediate  and  indisputable 
successor  of  John  Dryden  on  the  throne  of  English  lit- 
erature, and  waged  deathless  war  on  fools  and  knaves. 
The  six  successive  kings  were  Chaucer,  Spenser,  Shakes- 
peare, Milton,  Dryden,  Pope.  Ever  since  then  it  has 


Figures  of  Etymology.  63 

been  a  republic.  But  we  hasten  to  give  you  a  front-cut 
from  this  Alexander  le  Bref,  from  his  epigram  on  a 
blockhead  :  in  "  there's  "  for  "  there  is."  Pope  saith  : 

"  You  beat  your  pate,  and  fancy  Wit  will  come. 
Knock  as  you  please  ;  there's  nobody  at  home."     1 

Shakespeare,  whose  death  in  the  double  sixteen  is  eas- 
ily remembered,  affords  very  many  admirable  instances. 
Nor  does  he  despise  this  usage,  if  you  do  ;  as  thus : 

"  Why,  all  the  souls  that  are  were  forfeit'  once  ; 
And  He  that  might  the  'vantage  best  have  took, 
Found  out  the  remedy." 

A  short  word  is  "  begin,"  yet  this  great  model  of  En- 
glish, all  nerve  and  muscle,  much  improves  it  by  making 
it  shorter  still : 

"I  'gin  to  be  a-weary  of  the  sun." 

Here,  too,  let  the  wondrous  versatility  of  our  subject, 
Figures,  impress  you  ;  how  language  can,  through  them, 
avail  itself  of  exactly  opposite  devices :  in  forfeit',  short- 
ening the  word  at  the  end  ;  in  'vantage,  at  the  beginning ; 
in  'gin,  cutting  off  at  the  beginning ;  in  a-weary,  length- 
ening at  the  beginning — and  all  with  admirable  effects, 
which,  we  trust,  are  perceptible  to  your  ear  and  to  your 
mind. 

Dr.  Isaac  Watts  was,  like  Pope,  of  very  small  stature ; 
at  which  fact  a  certain  lady  was  making  merry.  The 
great  hymn-writer  defended  himself  by  this  impromptu, 
wherein  are  two  front-cuts : 

"  Could  I  in  stature  reach  the  pole, 

Or  grasp  creation  in  my  span, 
I'd  still  be  measured  by  my  soul — 
The  soul's  the  stature  of  the  man." 

Washington  Irving  gives  us  an  incident  too  beautiful 
)t  to  insert  here.     He  was  asked  if  he  had  ever  seen 
rashington.     He  said  he  had  seen  him  twice.     The  fol- 
lowing is  his  account;  of  the  second  interview : 


64  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  My  Scotch  nurse  suddenly  caught  sight  of  the  General  en- 
tering a  shop.  Clutching  my  hand  eagerly,  she  hurried  into  the 
shop,  and  caught  him  by  the  sleeve,  crying, '  General !  -General ! 
here's  a  bairn  that's  called  after  you.  Wull  ye  no  gie  him  your 
blessing  ?'  '  Called  after  me,  is  he  ?'  said  the  General,  in  a  pleased 
voice,  and  laying  his  hand  on  my  head  in  a  most  reverential 
manner  :  '  God  bless  the  little  one  forever,'  he  said,  and  went  out 
of  the  shop.  I  never  saw  him  again,  and  I  am  an  old  man 
now;  but  I  can  sometimes  even  now  feel  the  gentle  pressure 
of  his  hand  on  my  head  ;  and  I  know  his  blessing  abode  with 
me,  for  I  have  been  blessed." 

We  take  leave  of  front-cut  bjr  introducing  you  to  a 
case  when  it  was  made  a  complimentary  use  of.  James 
Smith,  who,  with  his  brother  Horace,  wrote  the  once  re- 
nowned "  Rejected  Addresses,"  thus  paid  his  devoirs  to 
Miss  Edgeworth,  whose  excellent  novels  are  a  school  of 
pure  morality  and  good  sense,  especially  to  young  ladies  : 

"We  every-day  bards  may  anonymous  sign; 
That  refuge,  Miss  Edgeworth,  can  never  be  thine  ; 
Thy  writings,  where  satire  and  moral  unite, 
Must  bring  forth  the  name  of  their  author  to  light : 
Good  and  bad  join  in  telling  the  source  of  their  birth  ; 
The  Bad  own  their  Edge,  and  the  Good  own  their  Worth." 

II.,  III.,  IV.,  V.  Mid-cut,  or  syncope,  is  our  second  fig- 
ure, the  cutting  out  from  the  middle  one  or  more  letters. 
Here  also  may  be  mentioned  III.,  synaeresis,  a  taking  or 
drawing  together,  whereby  two  vowels  are  not  changed, 
but  coalesce  into  a  diphthong,  as  aeronaut  for  aeronaut; 
while  IV.,  crasis,  mixture,  means  in  rhetoric  precisely  the 
blending  or  mixing  together  of  two  vowels  belonging  to 
two  different  words  that  come  into  contact  with  each  oth- 
er, the  first  of  which  words  ends  with  a  vowel,  and  th( 
second  begins  with  a  vowel ;  attended  at  times  with 
change  of  at  least  one  of  the  two  vowels  for  some  othei 
vowel,  as  "  th'  oar  "  for  the  oar ;  "  in't "  for  into  it.  When 
a  crasis  is  not  designated  in  writing,  but  is  left  to  the 


Figures  of  Etymology.  65 

vocalization  of  the  reader,  it  is  termed  V.,  synezesis,  or 
synecphonesis,  as  when  "  do  ye  "  is  pronounced  "  d'ye." 
Massing  together  these  four  under  the  one  head  of 
mid-cut,  we  are  glad  to  escape  from  words  whose  very 
look  is  barbarous,  to  a  sweet  example,  from  Anna  Leti- 
tia  Waring.  "E'er"  for  ever, is  mid-cut : 

"  Wherever  in  the  world  I  am, 

In  whatsoe'er  estate, 
I  have  a  fellowship  with  hearts 

To  keep  and  cultivate  ; 
And  a  work  of  lowly  love  to  do 
For  the  Lord  on  whom  I  wait." 

Another  specimen  take  we,  from  the  words  of  a  wail 
too  common  on  the  part  of  very  young  ladies  of  from 
thirty  to  forty  summers,  not  to  say  winters.  It  is  from 
the  once  very  fashionable  pen  of  Thomas  Haynes  Bayly, 
whose  heroine  casts  herself  on  the  sympathy  of  mamma 
— in  the  United  States,  mama : 

"  Why  don't  the  men  propose,  mamma  ? 

Why  don't  the  men  propose  ? 
Each  seems  just  coming  to  the  point, 

And  then  away  he  goes. 
It  is  no  fault  of  yours,  mamma— 

That  every  body  knows  ; 
You  fete  the  finest  men  in  town  ; 

Yet,  oh  !  they  don't  propose." 

At  once  to  annihilate  your  idea  that  this  figure  is  ut- 
terly insignificant,  notice  how  it  enables  Thomas  Dekker, 
the  old  dramatist,  to  express  compactly  in  one  noble  line 
a  most  noble  thought : 

"We  ne'er  are  angels  till  our  passions  die." 

Robert  Burns,  the  great  Nature -taught  Scots  poet, 
with  all  his  faults,  despised  infidelity ;  could  not  bear  to 
have  any  one  ridicule  the  Bible,  heart-and-life-book  of 
his  most  patriarchal  father  and  mother.  In  a  company 

E 


66  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

where  he  was,  a  conceited  fellow,  a  Mr.  Andrew  Turner, 
was  giving  vent  to  a  loud  and  lengthy  attack  on  religion. 
Some  of  those  present  nudged  the  mighty  plowman  to 
favor  the  mouther  with  an  intellectual  drubbing  ;  but  he 
sat  silent,  his  broad,  swarthy  brow  gathering  a  sterner 
and  sterner  gloom.  At  length,  when  the  scoffer  had  got 
through  with  his  jibes,  Burns,  having  first  asked  the  age 
of  the  man  who  had  honored  1759  with  his  birth,  broke 
forth,  volcanic,  with  this  epigram  ;  in  which  be  sure  to 
notice  the  mid-cuts— "  de'il  "  for  devil ;  "  ca't  "  for  called  : 

"  In  seventeen  hunner  fifty-nine, 
The  de'il  gat  stuff  to  mak  a  swine ; 

But  flung  it  in  a  corner. 
But  afterward  he  changed  his  plan, 
And  made  it  something  like  a  man, 

And  ca't  it — Andra  Turner." 

To  "  Love's  Victory  "  pass  we  next — a  production  of 
rare  polish,  to  which  of  late  years  attention  has  deserv- 
edly been  directed.  The  author  was  William  Chamber- 
layne : 

"  The  morning  hath  not  lost  her  virgin  blush, 
Nor  step  save  mine  soil'd  the  earth's  tinsel'd  robe ; 
How  full  of  heav'n  this  solitude  appears ! 
This  healthful  comfort  of  the  happy  swain, 
Who,  from  his  hard  but  peaceful  bed  rous'd  up, 
In's  morning  exercise  saluted  is 
By  a  full  choir  of  feather'd  choristers, 
Wedding  their  notes  to  the  enamor'd  air. 
Here  Nature,  in  her  unaffected  dress, 
Sits  lovely  in  her  native  russet." 

The  Rev.  Samuel  Wesley,  John  Wesley's  father,  is  re- 
membered'in  literature  by  his  epigram  respecting  a  mon- 
ument to  Butler,  author  of  "  Hudibras."  Butler  was 
abandoned  to  obscurity  and  want  by  the  unprincipled 
Charles  II.  and  his  worthless  courtiers  : 


Figures  of  Etymology.  67 

"  While  Butler,  needy  wretch,  was  yet  alive, 
No  generous  patron  would  a  dinner  give. 
See  him,  when  starved  to  death  and  turn'd  to  dust, 
Presented  with  a  monumental  bust. 
The  poet's  fate  is  here  in  emblem  shown : 
He  ask'd  for  bread,  and  he  receiv'd  a  stone." 

The  memorable  sonnet  on  Shakespeare,  by  Hartley 
Coleridge,  makes  repeated  use  of  syncope  : 

"  The  soul  of  Shakespeare's  larger  than  the  sky, 
Deeper  than  ocean,  or  the  abysmal  dark 
Of  the  unfathom'd  centre.     Like  that  ark 
Which  in  its  sacred  hold  uplifted  high 
O'er  the  drown'd  hills  the  human  family, 
And  stock  preserv'd  of  ev'ry  living  kind, 
So  in  the  compass  of  thy  single  mind 
The  seeds  and  pregnant  forms  in  essence  lie 
That  make  all  worlds.     Great  poet,  'twas  thy  art 
To  know  thyself;  and  in  thyself  to  be 
Whate'er  love,  hate,  ambition,  destiny, 
And  the  firm,  fatal  purpose  of  the  heart 
Can  make  of  man.     Yet  thou  wert  still  the  same — 
Serene  of  thought ;  unhurt  by  thine  own  flame." 

The  name  of  Shakespeare  admonishes  us  to  state  the 
fact,  none  more  memorable  in  the  history  of  English  let- 
ters, that  contemporary  with  the  Bard  of  Avon,  in  the  era 
of  Elizabeth  and  James,  flourished  a  large  number  of 
writers  for  the  stage,  men  of  very  great  genius — undisci- 
plined, but  genuine  ;  such  as  Marlowe,  Nash,  Ben  Jonson, 
Chapman,  Kyd,  Ford,  Dekker,  Shirley,  Webster,  Mars- 
ton,  Massinger,  Heywood,  Greene,  Peele,  Beaumont,  and 
Fletcher,  which  last  two  wrote,  it  is  said,  fifty-two  plays  in 
concert,  in  a  very  singular  dramatic  copartnership  ;  nay, 
even  wearing  each  other's  clothes.  The  dramas  of  all  these 
writers  have  within  the  last  sixty  years  commanded  a  good 
deal  of  attention,  to  the  great  advantage  of  our  speech, 
their  diction  is  so  light,  vigorous,  and  of  such  ivory  polish. 


68  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Slight  as  mid-cut  may  seem,  yet  have  you  never  felt 
its  happy  effect  in  a-  sermon  in  removing  the  essay-like 
deadness,  and  giving  to  pulpit  eloquence  the  thrill  it  al- 
ways should  have  of  an  earnest,  life-like,  personal  address, 
poured  fresh  from, the  heart?  As  when  the  preacher 
cries,  "  Why  don't  you  improve  the  grace  you  have  ? 
then  you  would  receive  more  grace."  Consider  a  remark- 
able phenomenon  in  the  writer's  mind.  Many  years  ago 
we  heard  a  sermon  from  an  eloquent  young  Methodist 
minister  on  Abraham's  offering  up  of  Isaac,  in  which 
were  many  impressive  paragraphs ;  yet  only  one  do  we 
in  the  very  least  remember.  Speaking  of  Isaac  as  an 
only  son,  he  said  : 

"  Parents  are  aware  that  the  only  child  in  a  family  is  apt  to 
get  a  little  bit  spoil'd." 

These  artless  words  of  the  hearth  and  homestead,  "  a 
little  bit  spoil'd,"  we  shall  never  be  able  to  forget.  They 
brought  the  speaker  into  our  home  and  down  to  our  level ; 
they  made  the  whole  so  life-like.  Such  precisely  is  often 
an  effect  of  mid-cut,  as  when  don't  is  used. 

Comes  neptt  an  example  in  which  wit  embodies  itself: 
a  witticism  of  Curran's,  the  Irish  orator.  Walking  along 
Dublin  streets  with  a  friend,  they  heard  a  person  use  the 
word  cur'osity,  by  syncope  for  curiosity.  Exclaimed  Cur- 
ran's friend : 

"  How  that  fellow  murders  the  king's  English !"  "  Not  so 
bad  as  that,"  observed  the  wit ;  "  it  is  not  murder  quite  ;  he  has 
only  knocked  an  eye  (i)  out." 

Or  we  may  conclude  our  treatment  of  this  figure  by 
referring  to  a  line  in  the  Second  Part  of  Henry  IV.,  by 
S.,  where  he  uses  "  sick'd  "  for  sickened  : 

"  It  did  so  a  little  time  before, 
That  our  great-grandsire,  Edward,  sick'd  and  died." 

Or  will  it  be  more  ingenious  to  finish  off  with  a  spice 


Figures  of  Etymology.  69 

of  Irish  astronomy,  from  the  pen  of  Miles  O'Reilly,  who 
has  discovered  an  Irish  poacher  among  the  constellations, 
raised  thither  by  St.  Pathrick : 

"  So  to  conclude  my  song  aright, 

For  fear  I'd  tire  your  patience, 
You'll  see  O'Ryan  any  night 

Amid  the  constellations. 
And  Venus  follows  in  his  track,    • 

Till  Mars  grows  jealous  r'ally ; 
But  troth  he  fears  the  Irish  knack 

Of  handling  the  shillaly." 

VI.  End-cut,  or  apocope,  next  meets  us :  the  cutting 
off  a  letter  or  letters  from  the  end  of  a  word,  as  seld  for 
seldom  ;  Pont  for  Pontus ;  Lucrece  for  Lucretia ;  obstruct 
for  obstruction  ;  submiss  for  submissive  ;  auxiliar  for  aux- 
iliary ;  amaze  for  amazement ;  Moroc  for  Morocco ;  ad- 
dict for  addicted.  Chaucer  and  Gower  have  some  strik- 
ing, daring,  elegant  specimens,  Chaucer  giving  Pers  for 
Persia;  Ind  for  India;  Adon  for  Adonis;  S.  giving  targe; 
reverbs ;  conduct  for  conductor ;  Hyrcan  tiger  for  Hyr- 
canian  tiger. 

Some  end-cuts  rise  to  the  dignity  of  being  national : 
thus  Sawney  is  Scotch  for  Alexander ;  Pat  is  national  for 
Patrick.  Curran,  after  his  speech  for  Rowan,  was  sur- 
rounded by  the  admiring  populace,  bent  on  chairing  him. 
In  vain  he  ordered  them  to  let  him  go.  A  gigantic 
chairman,  eying  the  little  orator  as  an  elephant  might 
a  lap-dog,  bellowed  to  another : 

"Arrah,  Pat,  don't  mind  the  little  cratur ;  pitch  him  up  this 
minute  on  my  showlder." 

Having  presented  you  with  the  epitaph  on  Butler,  to 
Butler  himself  be  introduced,  and  to  his  poem  of  "  Hudi- 
bras."  Dull  through  constant  straining  after  wit,  illus- 
trating the  old  saying :  "  Salt  is  good  as  a  savor ;  but  if 
one  undertakes  to  dine  on  salt,  it  ceases  to  be  a  savor, 
without  becoming  food  "  "  Hudibras"  has  seldom  been 


70  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

read  through.  The  tediousness  of  a  production  which 
must  surely  be  witty,  since  every  body  says  so,  arises  from 
the  absence  of  a  sufficient  story  ;  from  the  want  of  skill  in 
painting  character ;  from  the  obscurity  in  which  through 
lapse  of  time  many  of  the  allusions  are  now  involved,  and 
from  the  almost  total  absence  of  elevating  moral  princi- 
ples ;  for,  as  the  author's  object  was  to  laugh  at  the  Puri- 
tans, champions  of  civil  liberty,  martyrs  for  earnest  re- 
ligion, though  open  to  ridicule  in  some  points,  there  runs 
through  the  whole  book  a  sneer  at  lofty  truths ;  and  the 
work  is  destitute  of  moral  vigor  and  solid  interest.  God 
and  ethical  realities  are  important  elements  in  literature 
after  all,  and  of  that  "  Hudibras  "  is  a  convincing  negative 
proof.  It  is  a  suspicious  circumstance  that  one  standing 
quotation  is  the  only  one  that  is  continually  served  up 
—those  stale  lines  about  Alexander  and  Diogenes.  We 
present  you  with  something  new,  instead  of  putting  you 
in  the  tub  again,  among  old  clothes  as  worn  out  and  of- 
fensive to  nostril  as  what  FalstafT  encountered. 

So  memorable  a  thing  is  End-cut,  or  Apocope,  that  it 
inweaves  its  eloquent  self  with  two  of  our  dearest  names, 
never-to-be-forgotten  personal  acquaintances,  Sam  Weller 
and  Sam  Slick,  from  the  latter  of  whom  we  cull  one 
sample : 

"  That  'ere  man,  Sam  Patch,  was  a  great  diver,"  says  the  Clock- 
maker,  "and  the  last  dive  he  took  was  off  the  falls  of  Niagara, 
and  he  was  never  heerd  of  agin  till  t'other  (Crasis,  observe)  day, 
when  Captain  Wentworth,  of  the  Susy  Ann  whaler,  saw  him  in  the 
South  Sea.  "  Why,"  says  Captain  Enoch  to  him — "  why,  Sam, 
how  in  airth  did  you  git  here  ?  I  thought  you  was  drowned  at 
the  Canadian  lines  ?" — "  Why,"  says  Sam,  "  I  didn't  get  on  earth 
here  at  all,  but  I  came  right  through  it.  In  that  ere  Niagara 
dive,  I  went  so  deep,  I  thought  it  was  just  as  short  to  come  up 
t'other  side,  so  out  I  came  in  these  parts.  If  I  don't  take  the 
shine  off  the  sea-serpent  when  I  get  back  to  Boston,  then  my 
name's  not  Sam  Patch." 

There  are  apocopes,  too,  through  which   impudence 


Figures  of  Etymology.  71 

can  be  quashed  by  true  spirit.  Dr.  Vansittart,  an  emi- 
nent lawyer,  was  pleading  a  cause  against  Sergeant  Bear- 
croft.  Said  Bearcroft  to  the  Court : 

"As  long  names  will  be  tiresome,  I  beg  leave  to  call  the 
counsel  on  the  opposite  side  Mr.  Van." — "I  have  no  objection," 
said  Vansittart ;  "  and  I  will  return  the  compliment,  and  will 
name  the  learned  gentleman  by  the  appropriate  title  of  Mr. 
Bear." 

Even  into  sacrec]  things  apocope  comes  with  won- 
drous sway.  Who  but  hath  felt  the  potency  of  the 
Psalm-singer's  apocope  ?  In  a  Brooklyn  church  the  choir 
began : 

"  My  poor  pol — my  poor  pol — my  poor  polluted  heart !" 

Another  line  went  thus — 
"  Go  in  the  pi — go  in  the  pi — go  in  the  pious  throng." 

All  our  readers  are  by  this  time  convinced  that  even 
these  slightest  figures  are  of  gigantic  worth. 

This  cutting  off  from  the  end  is  a  main  feature  of  our 
invaluable  Doric,  the  Scottish  dialect — rich  in  humor  and 
in  the  pastoral ;  of  which  we  mean  to  make  large  use,  as 
Sir  Walter  Scott  does,  in  his  novels  never  excelled.  If 
you  have  as  yet  read  none  of  his,  pray  lose  no  time 
to  peruse  "  Rob  Roy,"  and  "  Old  Mortality,"  and  "  The 
Heart  of  Mid-Lothian."  We  have  all  the  advantage,  and 
much  more  than  ,all,  that  the  Greek  has,  in  possessing 
not  only  the  sixty  dialects  of  which  Britain  can  boast, 
but  one  most  expressive  classic  dialect,  in  which  is  the 
finest  pastoral  poem  in  the  world,  Allan  Ramsay's 
"  Gentle  Shepherd,"  which  Greece  and  Theocritus  never 
equaled. 

From  Richard  Crashaw  let  us  seek  a  bold  instance : 
there  is  a  potent  charm  in  such  liberties  of  diction : 

"  It  is  the  mind  that  maketh  good  or  ill, 
That  maketh  wretch'  or  happy,  rich  or  poor." 


72  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

So  Giles  Fletcher  describes  a  thunder-cloud — 
"  That  sads  the  smiling  Orient." 

And  Andrew  Marvel  utters  this  desire : 
"  Oh  let  our  voice  His  praise  exalt, 
Till  it  arrive  at  heaven's  vault ; 
Which  then,  perhaps,  rebounding  may 
Echo  beyond  the  Mexic'  bay." 

Your  author  lays  before  you  this,  from  an  address  to 
the  aged : 

"  When  age  steals  on, 
Let  glory  glisten  in  the  whitening  hair ; 
A  throne  of  empire  be  the  grandsire's  chair ; 
The  prophet-furrows  that  thy  brow  adorn, 
Be  hieroglyphs  of  morn." 

John  Keats  writes  swelt  for  swelter;  suit  for  sultry: 

"  With  her  two  brothers  this  fair  lady  dwelt, 
Enriched  from  ancestral  merchandise  ; 
And  for  them  many  a  weary  hand  did  swelt." 

In  agreement  with  this  special  device,  it  will  be  found 
that  er  may  often  be  dropped,  as  fost'  for  foster ;  while 
Chaucer  has  this,  near  the  opening,  so  admirable,  of  the 
"  Canterbury  Tales :" 

"  At  Alesahdr'  he  was,  when  it  was  won." 

Peter  Pindar,  speaking  of  Whitbread's  brewery,  has 
this— 

"A  charming  place  beneath  the  grates, 
For  roasting  chestnuts  and  potates." 

Henry  Neale  furnishes  this  case — 

"  Fall,  fall,  thou  wither'd  leaf! 
Autumn  sears  not  like  grief, 

Nor  kills  such  lovely  flowers. 
More  terrible  the  storm, 
More  mournful  the  deform', 
When  dark  misfortune  lowers." 


Figures  of  Etymology.  73 

Joshua  Sylvester  gratifies  us  with  a  daring  and  grace- 
ful illustration : 

"  I  see  Ambition  never  pleased  ; 

I  see  some  Tantals  starved  in  store. 
I  see  Gold's  dropsy  seldom  eased ; 
I  see  even  Midas  gape  for  more." 

In  the  following  beautiful  sonnet — supremely  beauti- 
ful— by  Archbishop  Trench,  "  after  "  is  used  for  "  after- 
ward :" 

"  The  Present  we  fling  from  us,  as  the  rind 
Of  some  sweet  Future,  which  we  after  find 
Bitter  to  taste  ;  or  cloud  it  o'er  with  fears, 
And  water  it  beforehand  with  our  tears — 
Vain  tears,  for  that  which  never  may  arrive. 
Meanwhile  the  joy  whereby  we  ought  to  live, 
Neglected  or  unheeded,  disappears. 
Wiser  it  were  to  welcome  and  make  ours 
Whate'er  of  good,  though  small,  the  Present  brings: 
Kind  greetings,  sunshine,  song  of  birds,  and  flowers, 
With  a  child's  pure  delight  in  little  things; 
And  as  to  griefs  unborn,  to  rest  secure, 
Knowing  that  mercy  ever  will  endure." 

The  poems  of  Matthew  Arnold  are  superior.  A  master 
of  language  he.  How  fine  the  effect  of  the  end-cut  in 
this,  from  his  "  Sohrab  and  Rustum,"  one  of  the  truest 
poems  of  our  times : 

"A  cloud 
Grew  suddenly  in  heaven,  and  dark'd  the  sun." 

James  A.  Hillhouse's  poem  on  the  "  Judgment "  is 
highly  finished.  Of  Nebuchadnezzar  he  thus  writes: 

"  His  countenance,  more  piercing  than  the  beam 
Of  the  sun-gazing  eagle,  earthward  bent 
Its  haught,  fierce  majesty." 

Let  the  student  of  English — that  great  and  urgent  ob- 
ject of  study  and  care,  so  neglected  and  trifled  with — 


74  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

open  his  Shakespeare,  marked  S.  in  this  volume,  and  no- 
tice how  by  end-cuts  that  consummate  writer  adds  not 
a  little  to  the  masterly  compactness  and  elasticity  which 
characterize  his  wondrous  style,  which  is  so  light  and  so 
massive,  like  a  war-mace  of  gold  swung  lightly  by  a  ser- 
aph. Give  five  or  six  days  to  such  an  examination  of 
the  effect  in  his  hands  of  front-cuts,  mid-cuts,  and  end- 
cuts,  and  you  will  be  astounded  at  the  superb  uses  which 
a  master  can  make  of  even  the  minutest  and  the  most 
opposite  dexterities  of  diction. 

This  first  chapter  will  suffice  to  give  some  idea  of  the 
work  we  aim  to  engage  you  in.  To  obtain  any  thing  like 
as  much  benefit  from  the  subject  as  you  easily  may,  let 
each  reader  be  a  student ;  purchase  a  manuscript  book, 
strongly  and  handsomely  bound,  of  four  hundred  pages 
at  least ;  there  will  be  above  two  hundred  figures,  those 
first  given  being  least  by  far  in  importance,  as  can  not 
but  be  the  case.  Let  two  pages  be  devoted  to  each  fig- 
ure ;  these  pages  let  each  student  fill  with  specimens  of 
each  figure,  botanized  for  himself  from  the  best  authors 
accessible  to  him ;  after  each  quotation  write  each  au- 
thor's name ;  prefix  your  whole  herbarium,  as  in  this  vol- 
ume, by  a  catalogue  of  writers,  with  their  date  and  coun- 
try. Thus  will  open  before  you  an  employment  that 
will  crown  your  entire  life  with  instruction  and  delight. 

A  witticism  will  aptly  close  this  chapter.  From  Ed- 
mund Burke  we  quote,  whose  prose  is  a  very  model  of 
style.  He  gives  you  at  once  a  specimen  of  front-cut  and 
of  end-cut ;  of  wit  that  sparkles,  and  of  sound  sense  that 
weighs  heavy : 

"Strip  majesty  of  its  externals,  and  it  is  merely — a  jest" — 
m)ajest(y. 


Figures  of  Etymology.  75 


CHAPTER  II. 

FIGURES   OF   ETYMOLOGY. 

PART    SECOND. 

BEFORE  proceeding  to  our  seventh  figure,  we  have  a 
valuable  prefatory  remark  to  make. 

William  Cullen  Bryant  gave  the  following  excellent 
advice  to  a  young  man  who  offered  him  an  article  for 
the  Evening  Post  : 

"  I  observe  that  you  have  used  several  French  expressions 
in  your  article.  I  think,  if  you  will  study  the  English  language, 
you  will  find  it  capable  of  expressing  all  the  ideas  that  you 
may  have.  I  have  always  found  it  so;  and  in  all  that  I  have 
written  I  do  not  recall  an  instance,  when  I  was  tempted  to  use 
a  foreign  word,  but  that  on  searching  I  found  a  better  one  in 
my  own  language. 

"  Be  simple,  unaffected  ;  be  honest  in  your  speaking  and 
writing.  Never  use  a  long  word  when  a  short  one  will  do. 
Do  not  call  a  spade  a  well-known  oblong  instrument  of  man- 
ual industry;  let  a  home  be  a  home,  not  a  residence;  a  place 
a  place,  not  a  locality,  and  so  of  the  rest.  Where  a  short 
word  will  do,  you  always  lose  by  using  a  long  one.  You  lose 
in  clearness,  you  lose  in  honest  expression  of  your  meaning; 
and  in  the  estimation  of  all  men  who  are  competent  to  judge, 
you  lose  in  reputation  for  ability. 

"  The  only  true  way  to  shine  even  in  this  false  world  is 
to  be  modest  and  unassuming.  Falsehood  may  be  a  very 
thick  crust,  but  in  the  course  of  time  truth  will  find  a  place  to 
break  through.  Elegance  of  language  may  not  be  in  the 
power  of  all  of  us,  but  simplicity  and  straightforwardness 
are. 


76  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Write  much  as  you  would  speak ;  speak  as  you  think.  If 
with  your  inferior,  speak  no  coarser  than  usual ;  if  with  your 
superior  speak  no  finer.  No  one  ever  was  a  gainer  by  singu- 
larity of  words  or  of  pronunciation.  The  truly  wise  man  will 
so  speak  that  no  one  will  observe  how  he  speaks.  Sydney 
Smith  once  remarked  : 

"  *  After  you  have  written  an  article,  take  your  pen  and  strike 
out  half  of  the  words,  and  you  will  be  surprised  to  see  how 
much  stronger  it  is.' " 

So  much  for  the  advice  of  our  revered  sage.  It  is  far 
from  any  contradiction  of  his  principle  to  say  that  the 
great  recommendation  of  a  word  is  not  its  shortness,  not 
its  Anglo-Saxon  origin,  nor  yet  its  length,  but  solely 
its  being  the  best  fitted  to  express  your  idea.  Says 
Marsh : 

"  Truly  able  writers  select  their  words,  not  with  reference  to 
their  historical  origin,  but  solely  for  the  sake  of  their  adapta- 
tion to  the  effect  aimed  at  on  the  mind  of  the  reader  or  hearer; 
and  he  who  deliberately  uses  an  Anglo-Saxon  instead  of  a  more 
expressive  Romance  word  is  as  much  a  pedant  as  if  his  diction 
were  composed,  in  the  largest  possible  proportion,  of  words 
borrowed  from  the  vocabulary  of  Rome.  The  masters  of  the 
English  tongue  know  that  each  of  its  great  branches  has  its 
special  adaptation." 

Still  it  is  from  the  well-spring  of  Anglo-Saxon  that  the 
great  future,  the  approaching  enrichments,  of  our  lan- 
guage are  to  come.  What  vigor  of  youth,  what  freshness 
of  spring-time,  lie  in  that  direction  !  What  an  unlimited 
supply  of  words,  gloriously  new,  yet  from  old  ancestral 
roots,  such  as  unwisdom,  disearth,  motherland,  auld  lang- 
syne,  inhearth,  ingle  nook  ! 

VII.  Prefixing,  or  Prosthesis,  is  the  seventh  figure  of 
spelling;  the  prefixing  of  one  or  more  letters  to  the  be- 
ginning of  a  word,  as  when  Chaucer  says  of  his  favorite 
flower,  as  it  was  that  of  Burns,  the  daisy : 

"  The  ground  was  green,  ypowder'd  with  daisy." 


Figures  of  Etymology.  77 

However,  this  is  a  prefixing  only  in  appearance ;  the 
original  is  that  which  Chaucer  gives ;  "  powdered "  is 
really  a  front-cut.  After  his  death,  in  1401,  the  very 
daisies  seem  to  have  been  poisoned  by  blood  in  the  fields 
of  England,  accursed  by  civil  strife  for  190  years;  until, 
in  1590,  the  "  Faerie  Queene"  was  published — a  dark  age, 
during  which,  as  old  Fuller,  the  Church  historian,  has  it, 
"  the  bells  in  the  church  steeples  were  not  heard,  for  the 
sound  of  drums  and  trumpets ;"  and  Poesy's  skylarks 
were  scared  into  a  silence  as  dismal  as  was  the  silence 
of  Devotion's  bells. 

Mrs.  Sigourney  supplies  us  with  "  amid  "  for  "  mid." 
A  poetess  she,  far  from  great,  yet  of  much  sweetness,  and 
of  a  piety  very  attractive.  We  place  on  your  parlor  wall 
the  portrait  of  Pocahontas,  daguerreotyped  by  mind-light. 
Alas !  if  ever  History  with  rude  hand  should  drag  down 
and  blur  the  picture,  and  put  in  its  place  the  features  of 
a  coarse  savage : 

"  On  sped  the  seasons,  and  the  forest  child 

Was  rounded  to  the  symmetry  of  youth, 
While  o'er  her  features  stole,  serenely  mild, 

The  trembling  sanctity  of  woman's  truth — 
Her  modesty,  and  simpleness,  and  grace. 
Yet  those  who  deeper  scan  the  human  face, 

Amid  the  trial  hour  of  fear  or  ruth, 
Could  clearly  read,  upon  its  heaven-writ  scroll, 
The  high  and  firm  resolve  that  moved  the  Roman  soul." 

The  longer  we  gaze  on  this  picture,  the  more  have  we 
our  misgivings.  Not  at  all  likely  that  ever  such  a  youth- 
ful maiden  budded  under  thy  wigwam,  O  Powhatan  !  In- 
deed, it  is  not  probable  that  a  female  bard  of  the  highest 
inspiration  would  be  soft  enough  to  believe  in  any  such 
vision.  On  the  page  of  Edith  May,  of  Pennsylvania, 
we  recognize  far  firmer  power,  in  the  subjoined  descrip- 
tion of  a  hurricane  at  twilight.  The  loftier  chants  of  the 
muse  can  always  bear  the  scrutiny  of  common -sense. 


78  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Here  bursts  on  you  a  genuine  tempest ;  here  is  no  pict- 
ure, but  the  great  original : 

"The  roar  of  a  chafed  lion  in  his  lair 
Begirt  by  leveled  spears  !     A  sudden  flash 
Intense,  yet  wavering,  like  a  beast's  fierce  eye 
Searching  the  darkness !     The  wild  bay  of  winds 
Sweeps  the  burnt  plains  of  heaven;  and  from  afar 
Ranked  clouds  are  riding  up  like  eager  horsemen, 
Javelin  in  hand.     From  the  north  wings  of  twilight 
There  falls  unwonted  shadow,  and  strange  gloom 
Cloisters  the  unwilling  stars.     The  sky  is  roof 'd 
With  tempest,  and  the  moon's  scant  rays  fall  through, 
Like  light  let  dimly  through  the  fissur'd  rock 
Vaulting  a  cavern.     There  is  no  bough 
But  lifteth  its  appealing  arm  to  heaven. 
The  scudding  grass  is  shivering  as  it  flies; 
And  herbs  and  flowers  crouch  to  their  mother  earth, 
Like  frightened  children.     'Tis  more  terrible 
When  the  hoarse  thunder  speaks,  and  the  fleet  wind 
Stops,  like  a  steed  that  knows  his  rider's  voice." 

Character-painting,  in  keeping  with  historic  fact,  or  in 
accordance  with  the  profundities  of  universal  man,  as  in 
unerring  Shakespeare,  is  a  chief  thing  in  poesy.  Of  this 
Chaucer  is  a  proof.  His  production  of  most  value,  the 
"  Canterbury  Tales,"  excels  in  its  portraitures,  as  witness 
his  "  Nun."  If  it  be  true  that  so  much  of  character- 
painting  runs  through  poesy,  how  deep,  how  pervading 
must  be  sagacity,  accuracy,  a  profound  science  true  to 
God  and  to  the  depths  of  the  human  heart,  in  the  flights 
of  the  muse;  just  as  the  rule  of  scientific  law  prevails  as 
much  in  the  wildest  whirl  of  the  topmost  storm-wave, 
when  realizing  the  tragic  at  its  highest,  as  in  the  dust  of 
the  common  road,  when  commonest,  most  prosaic,  most 
passionless.  But  let  the  Nun  speak  for  herself;  mark 
how  close  an  observer  of  human  manners  we  meet  with 
in  Chaucer: 


Figures  of  Etymology.  79 

"  There  also  was  a  nun,  a  prioress, 
That  in  her  smiling  was  full  simple  and  coy ; 
Her  greatest  oath  was  but  by  Saint  Eloy; 
And  she  was  cleped  Madame  Eglantine. 
Full  well  she  sang  the  service  divine, 
Entuned  in  her  nose  full  sweetly; 
And  French  she  spake  full  fair  and  fitishly, 
After  the  school  of  Stratford  at  Bow, 
For  French  of  Paris  was  to  her  unknowe. 
At  meat  was  she  well  ytaught  withal; 
She  let  no  morsel  from  her  lips  fall, 
Nor  wet  her  fingers  in  her  sauce  deep. 
Well  could  she  carry  a  morsel  and  well  keep, 
That  no  drop  ne'er  fell  upon  her  breast ; 
In  courtesie  was  set  full  much  her  lest." 

You  will  mark  how  Chaucer,  known  as  the  Morning 
Star  of  our  literature,  ridicules  the  most  gently  in  the 
world  the  style  of  this  great  lady's  French ;  while  neat- 
ness in  eating  hath  with  him  the  stress  which  it  truly  de- 
serves. At  his  death  befell  the  earliest  of  the  four  eras 
of  English  poetry,  the  dark  age ;  next,  from  Spenser  to 
Milton,  its  grand  heroic  age;  from  Milton  to  Thomson, 
the  artificial;  from  Thomson  till  now,  the  age  of  revival. 
How  striking  the  condemnatory  fact,  dwelt  on  by  Words- 
worth, that  between  the  publication  of  "  Paradise  Lost " 
(P.  L.)  and  that  of  Thomson's  "  Seasons,"  not  a  single 
new  image  fresh  from  nature  can  be  found  in  all  the  po- 
etry of  these  sixty  years — with  its  "  verses  of  society." 
These  two  remarks  also  demand  special  notice — that  Wil- 
liam Langlande's"  Vision  concerning  Piers  the  Plowman  " 
has  a  value  that  is  very  high,  as  a  mine  of  the  most  vig- 
orous English ;  and  that  in  Mr.  Wright's  edition  you 
ought  by  all  means  to  read  it  over;  while  we  do  here- 
by retract  our  contemptuous  verdict  on  the  "  Faerie 
Queene  "  passed  in  the  first  forty  years  of  our  life.  As 
it  stands  with  us  at  present,  the  older  we  grow  the  more 
do  we  like  it ;  as  also  do  we  the  Old  Testament. 


8o  Might,  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

See  for  other  cases  of  prosthesis  £.  L.,  vi.,  258,  353  ;  and 
let  yourself  grow  familiar  with  the  TkctrttraT~by-the-*nost 
opposite  expedients  does  literature  effect  her  wonders. 
Prefixing  is  quite  the  opposite  of  front-cut. 

VIII.  Epenthesis,  or  Insertion,  is  our  next  figure  of  ety- 
mology, the  inserting  of  a  letter  or  letters  in  the  middle 
of  a  word.  This  usage,  the  opposite  of  mid-cut,  is  rare, 
except  in  our  comic  literature.  American  humor  is  of 
the  broadest ;  the  United  States  people,  like  the  Scotch, 
are  a  proof  that  the  gravest  folks  are  exactly  they  who 
can  laugh  the  heartiest,  for  humor  is  fed  on  the  quiet, 
shrewd  observation  of  the  character  of  those  around  us. 
A  humorous  man  is  usually  a  man  of  some  depth  of  judg- 
ment, whose  eyes  are  open  to  the  ludicrous  points  in 
others.  Nothing  more  amusing,  in  the  American  way, 
than  the  "  Bigelow  Papers,"  by  James  Russell  Lowell. 
Hear  his  candidate's  creed.  The  speaker  is  applying  for 
office : 

"  I  du  believe  in  prayer  and  praise 

To  him — that  hez  the  grantin' 
Of  jobs;  in  every  thing  that  pays; 

But  most  of  all  in  cantin' ; 
That  doth  my  cup  with  marcies  fill, 

That  lays  all  thought  o'  sin  to  rest; 
I  don't  believe  in  Princerple, 

But,  oh  !  I  du  in  Interest." 

In  a  celebrated  letter,  that  of  Art  em  us  Ward  to  the 
Prince  of  Wales,  on  the  occasion  of  his  friend  the  Prince's 
marriage,  we  find  not  a  few  insertions,  like  that  last  one 
in  "  princerple."  Saith  Artemus : 

"I  never  attempted  to  reorganize  my  wife  but  once;  I  shall 
fiever  attempt  it  agin.  I'd  bin  to  a  public  dinner,  and  had  al- 
lowed to  be  betrayed  into  drinkin'  several  people's  health;  and 
wishin'  to  make  'em  as  robust  as  possible,!  continuered  drinkin' 
their  healths  until  my  own  became  affected.  Consekens  was, 
I  presented  myself  at  Betsy's  bedside  late  at  night  with  con- 


Figures  of  Etymology.  81 

sid'ble  lickor  concealed  about  my  person.  I  had  sumhow  got 
perseshun  of  a  hosswhip  on  my  way  home ;  and  rememberin' 
sum  cranky  observations  of  Mrs.  Ward's  in  the  mornin',  I  snapt 
the  whip  pretty  lively,  and,  in  a  very  loud  voice,  I  cried, '  Betsy, 
you  need  reorganizin' !  I  have  cum,  Betsy,'  I  continuered, 
crackin'  the  whip  over  the  bed — '  I  have  cum  to  reorganize  you  ! 
Have  you  per-rayed  to-nite?'  I  dream'd  that  nite  that  sum- 
body  had  laid  a  hosswhip  over  me  sev'ral  consekootiv'  times; 
and  whin  I  woke  up  I  found  she  had.  I  hain't  drank  much  of 
any  thin'  since ;  and  if  I  ever  have  another  reorganizin'  busi- 
ness on  hand,  I  shall  let  it  out  by  the  job.  There's  varis  ways 
of  managin'  a  wife,  friend  Wales,  but  the  best  and  only  safe  way 
is  to  let  her  do  jist  about  as  she  wants  to.  I  'dopted  that  there 
plan  sum  time  ago,  and  it  works  like  a  charm." 

IX.  Annexation,  or  Paragoge,-  the  contrast  to  end-cut, 
is  the  putting  of  a  letter  or  letters  to  the  end  of  a  word, 
as  withouten  for  without.  When  Lord  Howe  was  in 
command  of  the  Magnanime,  a  negro  sailor  was  ordered 
to  be  flogged.  Every  thing  being  ready,  and  the  ship's 
company  assembled,  the  Captain  made  a  long  address  to 
the  culprit  on  the  enormity  of  his  offense.  Poor  Sambo, 
tired  of  the  harangue,  and  of  having  his  unfortunate  back 
exposed  to  the  cold,  exclaimed : 

"  Massa,  if  you  floggee,  floggee ;  or  if  you  preachee,  preachee  : 
but  no  preachee  and  floggee  both." 

He  knows  little  of  English  and  of  courting,  who  knows 
not  the  endearing  effects  of  a  y  at  the  end.  Thus,  in  R. 
H.  Barham,  the  humorist : 

"The  wearied  sentinel 
At  eve  may  overlook  the  crouching  foe, 
Till,  ere  his  hand  can  sound  the  alarum  bell, 

He  sinks  beneath  the  unexpected  blow; 
Before  the  whisker  of  grimalkin  fell, 

When  slumbering  on  her  post,  the  mouse  may  go: 
But  woman,  wakeful  woman's  never  weary; 
Above  all,  when  she  waits — to  thump  her  deary." 
F 


82  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Shenstone,  too  often  lackadaisical,  in  his  poem  "  The 
Schoolmistress,"  wherein  are  some  sketches  true  to  nat- 
ure, presents  a  paragoge  in  his  use  of  grieven  for  grieve ; 
which  leads  us  to  whisper,  parenthetically,  albeit  very 
earnestly,  that  you  might  much  enrich  your  English  by 
turning  adjectives  into  verbs,  through  this  annexation 
of  n,  as  when  Milton  and  Southey  use  the  verb  worsen, 
to  make  or  grow  worse ;  and  milde-n,  to  make  mild. 
Would  that  you  all  went  back  to  Anglo-Saxon,  that  over- 
flows with  riches,  to  beyouth  and  bestrengthen  your  style. 
But  hie  we  to  the  tasteful  Laird  of  the  Leasowes  and  his 
school-marm : 

"  In  every  village  marked  by  little  spire, 
Embowered  in  trees,  and  hardly  known  to  fame, 
There  dwells  in  lowly  shed,  and  mean  attire, 
A  matron  old,  whom  we  Schoolmistress  name; 
Who  boasts  unruly  brats  with  birch  to  tame : 
They  grieven  sore  in  piteous  durance  pent." 

In  Milton's  supremely  beautiful  word  "  eremite/'  for 
hermit,  he  deftly  gives  us  in  one  fine  creation  an  aphaere- 
sis,  a  paragoge,  and  an  epenthesis:  a  front-cut  of  the  h ;  an 
insertion  in  the  second  e ;  an  annexation  in  the  final  e. 

Sir  John  Suckling,  a  poet  very  minor  indeed,  was  rid- 
iculed as  follows  by  a  contemporary  knight,  Sir  John 
Mennis,  wherein  annexation  lubricates  the  fun  : 

"  Sir  John  he  got  him  an  ambling  nag, 

To  Scotland  for  to  ride-a, 
With  a  hundred  men,  all  his  own  he  swore, 
To  guard  him  on  every  side-a." 

You  are  by  this  time  convinced  that  even  things  so 
tiny  as  Forms  Etymologic,  the  least  important  part  of 
our  theme,  may  add  much  of  humor,  of  quaint  oddity, 
nay,  of  considerable  attraction,  to  language.  As  thus: 
a  country  swain  makes  an  insidious  attempt  to  persuade 
Dolly  to  let  him  carry  on  the  courtship  at  an  unseason- 


Figures  of  Etymology.  83 

able  hour ;  which,  we  rejoice  to  say,  the  buxom  maiden 
triumphantly  repels — ever  be  it  so : . 

"Young  Roger  came  tapping  at  Dolly's  window — 

Thumpaty,  thumpaty,  thump. 
He  begged  for  admittance.     She  answered  him — '  No  !' 

Glumpaty,  glumpaty,  glump. 
'  No,  no,  Roger;  No  !     As  you  came  you  may  go  !' 

Stumpaty,  stumpaty,  stump." 

From  Horace  Smith  we  purloin  the  following :  sar- 
donical,  ironical,  for  sardonic,  laconic ;  while  yees  is  epen- 
thesis.  A  bullying  barrister  would  make  a  butt  of  a 
Yorkshire  farmer: 

"  Well,  Farmer  Numskull,  how  goes  calves  at  York  ?" 
"  Why  not,  sir,  as  they  do  wi'  you, 
But  on  four  legs  instead  of  two." 
"Officer!"  cried  the  legal  elf, 
Piqued  at  the  laugh  against  himself, 

"  Do  pray  keep  silence  down  below  there ! 
Now  look  at  me,  clown,  and  attend: 
Have  I  not  seen  you,  somewhere,  friend  ?" 

"Yees,  very  like;  I  often  go  there." 
"  The  rustic's  waggish — quite  laconical," 
The  counsel  cried,  with  grin  sardonical ; 
"  I  wish  I'd  known  this  prodigy, 
This  genius  of  the  clods,  when  I 
On  circuit  was  at  York  residing. 
But,  Farmer,  do  for  once  speak  true. 
Mind,  you're  on  oath ;  so  tell  me,  you 
Who  doubtless  think  yourself  so  clever, 
Are  there  as  many  fools  as  ever 

In  the  West  Riding?" 
"Why  no,  sir,  no;  we've  got  our  share, 
But  not  so  many  as  when  you  were  there." 

Such  figures  as  we  are  at  present  handling  are  small, 
but  it  is  important  for  us  all  to  remember  that  things 
small  are  in  language  often  of  great  value.  It  was  said 


84  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

by  a  witty  lady,  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague,  that  the 
sole  difference  between  the  infidel  and  the  Christian  lies 
in  very  small  compass ;  the  former  merely  took  the  "  No  " 
out  of  the  Commandments  and  put  it  in  the  Creed. 

We  have  spoken  more  than  once  of  a  monk  of  Mal- 
vern  Abbey,  whose  name,  somewhat  uncertain,  is  given 
as  William  Langlande — unsparing  in  his  attacks  on  the 
monks ;  invaluable  in  the  glimpses  he  gives  of  the  wretch- 
ed social  life  of  the  fourteenth  century ;  a  powerful  orig- 
inal genius  and  reformer ;  a  spirit  of  a  far  higher  order 
than  John  Gower,  who  was  a  mere  listless  harper  on  dead 
Greek  mythologies,  but  this  a  soul  of  flame,  warring 
against  oppressions  and  for  the  wretched.  His  work 
was  produced  between  1360  and  1370;  is  older  therefore 
than  the  "  Canterbury  Tales."  We  give  you  a  sample 
from  him — we  feel  it  to  be  very  powerful  and  deeply 
pathetic — the  description  of  the  miserable  life  of  a  poor 
plowman  in  those  grim  days.  Mark  the  annexations, 
and  the  alliterations  in  every  line,  after  the  manner  of 
all  Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  and  of  all  Icelandic.  Let  it  be 
said,  also,  that  it  is  not  even  yet,  perhaps,  too  late  to 
restore  the  plural  form  of  the  verb  in  "  n " ;  as  "  they 
loven,"  which  might  be  in  poetry  a  fine  variety: 

"  As  I  went  by  the  way, 
Weeping  for  sorrow, 
I  saw  a  simple  man  me  by, 
Upon  the  plow  hanging. 
His  coat  was  of  a  clout 
That  cary  was  called  (coarse  cloth); 
His  hood  was  full  of  holes, 
And  his  hair  out, 

With  his  knopped  shoon  (buttoned) 
Clouted  full  thick. 
His  toes  toteden  out  (pushed) 
As  he  the  land  treaded. 
His  hosen  overhung  his  hock  shins 
On  every  side. 


Figures  of  Etymology.  85 

All  beslomered  in  fen  (mud), 

As  he  the  plow  followed ; 

Four  rotheren  him  before  (oxen), 

Men  might  reckon  each  rib. 

His  wife  walked  him  with, 

With  a  long  goad, 

In  a  cutted  coat, 

Cutted  full  high ; 

Barefoot  on  the  bare  ice, 

That  the  blood  followed. 

And  at  the  land's  end  layeth 

A  little  crumb-bowl  (kneading-trough), 

And  thereon  lay  a  little  child 

Lapped  in  clouts ; 

And  twins  of  two  years'  old 

Upon  another  side. 

And  all  they  sungen  one  sang 

That  sorrow  was  to  hear. 

They  crieden  all  one  cry — 

A  careful  note. 

The  simple  man  sighed  sore, 

And  said, <  Children,  be  still!'  " 

In  our  humble  opinion,  no  more  pathetic  passage  in 
all  our  literature ;  for  it  refers  to  that  sore  struggle  for 
life  which  is  going  on  at  this  hour,  in  the  winter  of  1874- 
75,  in  New  York,  the  most  advanced  city  of  our  imper- 
iled civilization. 

X.  Diaeresis  is  another  figure  of  spelling,  the  sepa- 
rating the  vowels  that  might  form  one  syllable — a  diph- 
thong— into  two;  as  aerolite  for  aerolite.  From  that 
thoroughly  classical  poem  of  Milton's,  the  "  Comus,"  take 
we  an  example  in  the  word  aerial.  A  guardian  angel 
thus  speaks.  Study  the  production  as  a  whole : 

"  Before  the  starry  threshold  of  Jove's  court 
My  mansion  is,  where  those  immortal  shapes 
Of  bright  aerial  spirits  live  ensphered, 
In  regions  mild  of  calm  and  serene  air, 


86  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Above  the  smoke  and  stir  of  this  dim  spot 
Which  men  call  Earth,  and  with  low-thoughted  care 
Strive  to  keep  up  a  frail  and  feverish  being, 
Unmindful  of  the  crown  that  virtue  gives." 

Trench,  Archbishop  of  Dublin,  supplies  us  with  a  sort 
of  diaeresis,  or  separation,  when  he  uses,  with  fine  effect, 
"not  ever"  for  ever: 

"  In  palaces  are  hearts  that  ask, 

In  discontent  and  pride, 
Why  life  is  such  a  dreary  task, 

And  all  things  good  denied. 
And  hearts,  in  poorest  huts,  admire 

•How  Love  has,  in  their  aid — 
Love  that  not  ever  seems  to  tire — 

Such  rich  provision  made." 

XL  Tmesis,  Diacope,  or  Cutting,  let  us  next  illustrate, 
led  to  it  by  the  last  example,  each  part  split  off  being  a 
complete  word;  as  "to  us  ward"  for  toward  us.  The 
poem  on  "  Curiosity,"  by  Charles  Sprague,  is  full  of  good 
sense  and  keen  satire : 

"  In  the  pleased  infant  see  this  power  expand, 
When  first  the  coral  fills  his  little  hand. 
Throned  in  its  mother's  lap,  it  dries  each  tear 
When  her  sweet  legend  falls  upon  his  ear. 
Next  it  assails  him  in  his  top's  strange  hum, 
Breathes  in  his  whistle,  echoes  in  his  drum ; 
And  when  the  waning  hour  to  bed  ward  bids, 
While  gentle  sleep  sits  waiting  on  his  lids, 
How  winningly  he  pleads,  to  gain  you  o'er, 
That  he  may  read  one  little  story  more." 

In  a  renowned  passage  of  the  Rev.  Richard  Hooker's 
"  Ecclesiastical  Polity,"  in  defense  of  the  Church  of  En- 
gland, a  cutting  occurs  in  the  expression  "  what  condi- 
tion soever:" 

"  Of  Law  there  can  be  no  less  acknowledged  than  that  her 


Figures  of  Etymology.  87 

seat  is  the  bosom  of  God,  her  voice  the  harmony  of  the  world. 
All  things  in  heaven  and  earth  do  her  homage:  the  least  as 
feeling  her  care,  and  the  greatest  as  not  exempted  from  her 
power;  both  angels  and  creatures  of  what  condition  soever, 
each  in  different  sort  and  manner,  yet  all  with  uniform  consent, 
admiring  her  as  the  mother  of  their  peace  and  joy." 

Hooker's  "  Ecclesiastical  Polity  "  is  the  earliest  great 
prose  work  in  English,  published  about  1600;  Sir  Walter 
Raleigh's  "  History  of  the  World  "  was  the  second.  In 
literature,  prose  composition  is  usually  later  than  poetry. 
The  above  famous  quotation  suggests  the  remark  that  it 
is  a  good  sample  of  the  long  complex  sentence,  moulded 
on  that  Latin  style  by  which  the  prose  of  Hooker  and 
Milton  is  much  marked — a  grand  orotund  diction,  where 
the  resounding  phraseology  reminds  us  of  a  long  rever- 
berating peal  of  thunder,  or  of  the  far  sweep  of  a  mount- 
ainous billow ;  and  is  powerfully  suggestive  of  profundity 
of  thought  and  grandeur  of  conception ;  but  its  drawback 
being  that  it  is  apt  quickly  to  weary  the  ear.  A  grand, 
long-rolling  sentence,  however,  would  be  a  pleasant,  noble 
variety  now  and  then  among  the  short  sentences  of  our 
modern  prose.  Study  Macaulay  for  powerful  short  sen- 
tences, Ruskin  for  powerful  long  ones.  Be  daring  enough 
to  try  a  long  one,  now  and  then,  from  the  pulpit. 

XII.  Metathesis  next  claims  attention,  or  Twisting,  usu- 
ally at  the  bidding  of  humor,  of  the  letters  of  a  word  into 
some  different  order  of  arrangement.  You  will  detect  it  in 
the  following  four  pathetic  lines  by  Tom  Moore,  the  Irish 
bard,  wherein  he  bemoans  his  destiny,  which  all  of  us  have 
shared,  in  being  caught  in  a  heavy  shower  umbrellaless: 

"  O  ever  thus,  from  childhood's  hour, 

Has  chilling  fate  upon  me  fell ; 
There  always  comes  a  soaking  shower 
When  I  hain't  got  an  umberell." 

It  is  not  a  bad  guess  of  Dr.  William  Smith,  that  "  Shake- 
speare seems  to  have  formed  the  name  Caliban,  by  me- 
tathesis, from  Canibal." 


88  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Few  more  amusing  books  have  appeared  for  many  a 
day  than  the  "  Life  and  Sayings  of  Mrs.  Partington." 
The  humor  mainly  lies  in  quaint  liberties  with  the  spell- 
ing of  words:  a  branch  of  art  in  which  American  humor- 
ists have  traded  very  extensively.  Let  us  sit  down  by 
the  ancient  lady,  and  hear  a  remark  or  two  from  her  wise 
lips.  She  says  that — 

"Ike  has  got  a  horse  so  spirituous  that  it  always  goes  off  in 
a  decanter." — "Don't  you  regard  snuff-taking  as  a  sin?"  we 
asked  of  her.  "  If  it  is,"  she  replied,  "  it  is  so  small  a  one ;  and, 
besides,  my  oilfactories  would  miss  it  so." 

Dr.  Holmes  spells  widow  "  widdah."  One  of  his  char- 
acters tells  us  what  his  experience  had  been  at  the  din- 
ner-table while  boarding  with  a  lady  of  that  profession : 

"It  ain't  the  feed;  it's  the  old  woman's  looks  when  a  fellah 
lays  it  in  too  strong  at  meal-time.  The  feed's  well. enough. 
After  geese  get  tough,  and  green  pease  are  so  big  and  hard 
they'd  be  dangerous  if  you  fired  'em  out  of  a  revolver,  we  get 
hold  then  of  all  them  delicacies  of  the  season.  But  it's  too 
much  like  feedin'  on  live  folks  and  devourin'  widdah's  sub- 
stance to  lay  yourself  out  in  the  eatin'  way,  when  a  fellah's  as 
hungry  as  the  chap  that  said  a  turkey  was  too  much  for  one 
'n  not  enough  for  two.  I  can't  help  at  dinner-table  lookin'  at 
the  old  woman.  Corned-beef  days  she's  tolerable  calm.  Roast- 
in'  days  she  worries  some,  'n  keeps  a  sharp  eye  on  the  chap 
that  carves.  But  when  there's  any  thing  in  the  poultry  line,  it 
seems  to  hurt  her  feelings  so,  to  see  the  knife  goin'  into  the 
breast,  and  joints  comin'  to  pieces,  that  there's  no  comfort  in 
eatin'.  When  I  cut  up  an  old  fowl,  and  help  the  boarders,  I 
always  feel  as  if  I  ought  to  say — not  '  Won't  you  have  a  slice 
of  chicken?'  but  'Won't  you  venture  on  a  slice  of  widdah?'" 

The  cutting  away  the  front  of  "  and,"  so  that  it  gets 
dwarfed  into  'n,  is  a  good  case  of  the  rare  figure  crasis, 
the.  word  before  "  and  "  ending  with  a  vowel. 

But  if  metathesis  be  twisting,  the  word  must  consist 
still  of  the  same  letters.  In  "  Sketches  from  Life,"  pub- 


Figures  of  Etymology.  89 

lished  by  the  American  Tract  Society,  we  have  two  pre- 
cise examples : 

"  In  a  railway  car  a  stormy  debate  broke  out  between  a  zeal- 
ous clergyman  and  an  infidel.  This  debate  was  carried  on 
very  loudly  till  long  after  midnight,  vastly  to  the  annoyance  of 
the  other  passengers,  who  would  have  greatly  preferred  sleep 
to  theology.  The  self-dubbed  philosopher  avowed  that  man  is 
like  a  pig :  when  he  dies  there's  an  end  of  him.  On  this  a 
red-faced  Irishwoman  sprang  up,  the  natural  redness  of  her 
face  glowing  more  intensely  red  with  feeling,  the  light  of  the 
lamp  glaring  directly  on  it.  She  cried  to  the  clergyman,  in  a 
rich  brogue  :  '  Arrah,  now,  your  riverence,  will  you  not  let  the 
baste  alone  ?  Sure,  now,  has  he  not  tould  you  he's  a  pig  ?  And 
the  more  you  pull  a  pig  by  the  hind  leg,  the  louder  he'll 
squale !' " 

Here  baste  and  squale  have  precisely  the  identical  let- 
ters with  beast  and  squeal,  only  their  sounds  are  twisted 
out  of  their  proper  place.  Bridget  hath  therefore  helped 
us  to  most  scientific  instances. 

XIII.  Consequently,  another  name  is  needed  to  com- 
prehend all  varieties  of  change  of  letters  in  the  spelling ; 
rhetors  must  insert  in  their  catalogue  a  new  and  hith- 
erto unnamed  figure,  which  we  call  "  Intentional  Mis- 
spelling." In  a  poem  by  Fielding,  the  celebrated  novel- 
ist— "  The  Author  and  the  Politician  " — occur  these  lines : 

"While  I,  like  the  Mogul  in  Indo, 
/Am  never  seen  but  at  my  window." 

Heniyi'Kirke  White,  whose  name  is  a  synonym  for 
youthful  genius  cut  down  in  its  bud — whose  name  tends 
to  make  us  connect  over-study  and  consumption,  has 
these  two  lines,  containing  a  change  of  spelling  not  un- 
usual, y  for  ia  at  the  close : 

"Whom  starry  Science  in  her  cradle  rock'd, 
And  Castaly  enchastened  with  its  dews." 

-In  "  Legends  from  Fairyland,"  a  delightful  Christmas 


9O  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

book  for  children,  we  read  of  the  country  of  the  Too- 
meniaitches ;  the  exploits  are  spoken  of  as  done  by  the 
mighty  Tuf-long-bo  on  his  journey  to  the  happy  land  of 
that  happy  people,  whom  all  children  envy — the  Apple- 
pivi.  There  is  a  New  York  periodical  whose  very  name 
is  marked  tyy  intentional  misspelling;  it  is  called  the 
Phunny  Phellow.  In  like  manner,  Thackeray,  whose  fun 
and  frolic  often  broke  out  in  ways  that  might  be  called 
rampageous,  delighted  in  transferring  a  lisp  to  paper,  as 
thus,  in  a  rhyming  letter  of  his: 

"I  pray  each  month  may  increathe  my  thmall  account  with 
J.  G.  King,  that  all  the  thipth  which  croth  the  theath  good  tid- 
ingth  of  my  girlth  may  bring." 

To  pass  at  a  bound  from  the  ridiculous  to  the  noble, 
consult  P.  L.,  L,  353,  where  you  will  find  an  example  of 
that  consecrated  diction  set  apart  to  poetic  purposes  in 
which  Milton  was  so  great  an  inventor,  and  the  very 
sound  of  which  excites  lofty  associations,  or  carries  away 
to  bosky  dell  or  river's  bank. 

In  the  renowned  Scottish  song  of  "Tullochgorum,"  by 
the  Rev.  John  Skinner,  there  is  an  effective  misspell  in 
the  last  word : 

"  Shall  we  sae  sour  and  sulky  sit — 
Sour  and  sulky,  sour  and  sulky; 
Shall  we  sae  sour  and  sulky  sit, 
Like  auld  Philosophorum  ?" 

*•    Also  P.  L.,  vi.,  365.     So  in  William  Congreve's  justly 
k  celebrated  character  of  Ben,  in  "  Love  for  Love,"  this  oc- 
curs, on  the  lips  of  Ben,  the  sailor: 


•• 


"Marry  thee!  Oons!  I'll  marry  a  Lapland  witch  as  soon, 
and  live  by  selling  contrary  winds  and  wrecked  vessels." 

XIV.  A  figure  used  solely  for  prosodical  purposes 
claims  to  be  registered — the  full  syllabification  of  the 
termination  "  ed  "  in  the  past  of  verbs,  a  mark  being  put 


Figures  of  Etymology.  91 

over  the  e,  thus :  loved ;  for  instance,  by  Shakespeare, 
imparting  a  charming  variety : 

"  The  shepherd's  homely  curds, 
His  wonted  sleep  under  a  fresh  tree's  shade, 
Is  far  beyond  a  prince's  delicates; 
His  viands  sparkling  in  a  golden  cup, 
His  body  couched  in  a  curious  bed, 
When  Care,  Mistrust,  and  Treason  wait  upon  him." 

XV.  Dialect,  when  presented  for  the  mere  sake  of  let- 
ting it  be  known  what  the  dialect  may  be,  is,  of  course, 
no  figure;  but  it  is  a  figure  when  used  for  rhetorical 
ends,  as  when  William  Barnes  gives  us  the  Dorset  dia- 
lect, very  sweetly.     We  include  not  the  Scottish,  which 
deserves  a  high  and  separate  place  as  our  classical  Doric : 

"  Of  all  the  housen  o'  the  pliace 

There's  oone  wher  I  da  like  to  call, 
By  day  ar  night,  the  best  ov  all, 
To  zee  my  Fanny's  smilen  fiace; 
An  dere  the  stiately  trees  da  grow, 
A-rockin'  as  the  win'  da  blow, 
While  she  da  sweetly  sleep  below, 
In  the  stillness  o'  the  night." 

XVI.  The  Alphabetic  is  a  figure  newly  invented  by 
the  London  Punch,  which  designates  it  as  "  poetry  on  a 
new  principle."     It  defies  description ;  you  will  perhaps 
understand  it  by  reading  it.     It  rhymes  on  the  final  letter 
of  each  alternate  line,  as  thus,  it  being  spelled  by  you : 

"  On  going  forth  last  night  a  friend  to  see, 
I  met  a  man  by  trade  a  s-n-o-b. 
Reeling  along  he  held  his  tipsy  way. 
'Ho!  ho!'  quoth  I,  'he's  d-r-u-n-k.' 
Then  thus  to  him :  '  Were  it  not  better  far 
You  were  a  little  s-o-b-e-r  ? 
'Twere  happier  for  your  family,  I  guess, 
Than  playing  off  such  rum  r-i-g-s. 
Besides,  all  drunkards,  when  policemen  see  'em, 
Are  taken  up  at  once  by  t-h-e-m. ' ' 


92  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

XVII.  Combination  is  another  etymological  figure  for 
the  first  time  discovered,  when  two  or  more  words  are 
joined  into  one,  usually  to  produce  a  fantastic  effect.  A 
Scotchman  enjoys  Sir  Walter  Scott's  name  for  the  hotel 
of  that  matchless  cook,  Mrs.  Meg  Dodds,  at  St.  Ronan's 
Well,"  the  Cleek-um-inn  ;"  and  perceives  the  propriety  of 
locating  the  Great  Unknown,  as  he  for  a  number  of  years 
was  called,  the  long-concealed  author  of  Waverley — still 
unsurpassed  as  a  novelist — in  the  romantic  clachan,  that 
is,  village,  of  Ken-na-quhair.  Many  a  papa,  who  has  sent 
his  boy  to  an  unprincipled  boarding-school,  characterized 
by  much  starvation  and  a  plentiful  lack  of  instruction,  un- 
derstands why  Dickens,  in  his  masterly  "  Nicholas  Nickle- 
by,"  celebrates  the  Yorkshire  seminary  of  Mr.  Squeers 
as  "  Do-the-boys  Hall ;"  for  there  the  boys  were  done, 
it  being  a  standing  rule  of  that  delectable  seat  of  learn- 
ing that  the  boys  all  got  a  large  dose  of  treacle  and  brim- 
stone once  a  week,  administered  out  of  an  immense  bowl, 
in  a  vast  wooden  spoon,  from  the  maternal  paws  of  the 
frightful  Mrs.  Squeers,  who  herself  was  the  brimstone 
minus  the  treacle — a  dose  given  to  the  boys  in  order  to 
cleanse  their  blood,  and — lessen  their  appetites. 

It  is  Charles  Lamb  who  tells  us  of  a  rollicking  person- 
age, whose  manners  were  of  the  "  How-do-ye-do-George- 
my-boy  "  sort  of  style.  In  New  England  they  talk,  with 
profound  respect,  of  a  "  Go-to-meetin'  coat."  Occasion- 
ally we  come  on  good-natured  young  men,  whose  good- 
nature arises  from  want  of  firm  principle ;  who  have  not 
grit  enough  to  say  "  No,"  but  who  belong  to  the  feeble 
"  O-yes"  class.  Addison  speaks  of  one  who  came  rushing 
along  "in  a  helter-skelter-ding-dong-horse-and-foot" 
style.  Joseph  Addison  contributed  to  the  Tatler  and  to 
the  Spectator,  two  periodicals  of  the  time.  When  he  was 
Secretary  of  State,  he  broke  down  in  a  speech  he  tried 
to  make  in  the  House  of  Commons ;  and  from  the  same 
cause,  excessive  diffidence,  he  often  sat  silent  in  large 
parties.  But  with  one  or  two  select  friends  his  conver- 


Figures  of  Etymology.  93 

sational  powers  were  of  the  highest  order,  and  he  enjoyed 
nothing  more  thoroughly  than  an  animated  debate  with 
a  determined  opponent.  With  Temple  Stanyan,  one  of 
his  fellow-contributors  to  the  Spectator,  he  used  to  have 
many  such  mental  tournaments.  At  length  this  gentle- 
man borrowed  some  money  from  him ;  after  which  he 
assented  to  every  thing  Addison  said.  One  evening  a 
subject  was  broached  on  which  the  two  had  often  op- 
posed each  other,  but  still  the  borrower  was  too  com- 
plaisant to  say  a  word  in  opposition  to  his  creditor's  re- 
marks. This  the  great  essayist  would  stand  no  longer; 
he  started  to  his  feet,  and  cried,  "  Contradict  me,  sir,  or 
pay  me  my  money."  Knowing  his  unfitness  for  general 
conversation,  and  yet  what  great  work  he  could  do,  he 
used  to  say  of  himself:  "  I  can  draw  a  bill  for  a  thousand 
pounds,  though  I  have  not  a  shilling  of  ready  change  in 
my  pocket."  If  you  would  write  a  style  easy,  natural, 
elegant,  eminently  graceful,  buy  a  copy  of  the  Spectator, 
and  read  Addison's  papers  fifty  times. 

XVIII.  Not  having  any  precisely  correct  place  for  it, 
we  are  compelle^l  to  put  in  here,  as  a  figure  of  consider- 
able importance,  Accentuation.     Thus,  in  P.  L.,  vi.,  81 : 
'"  Far  in  th'  horizon  to  the  north,  appear'd 
Of  battalious  aspect." 

See  P.  L.,  vi.,  841 ;  vii.,  4. 

So  Shakespeare  speaks  of  "  Epicurean  cooks ;"  and 

soon  after — 

"  How  the  fear  of  us 

May  cement  our  divisions,  we  not  know." 

S.,  "  Cymbeline,"  act  iv.,  scene  v.,  Cornelius,  /th  speech, 
line  i;  "Romeo  and  Juliet,"  act  i.,  scene  v.,  1st  Capu- 
let's  speech,  line  4.  He  has  also  "persever,"  "character," 
"  importune,"  "  contract."  But  no  wonder  the  critics  take 
offense  at  Dante  Gabriel  Rosetti's  venture  (he,  a  true 
poet): 

"  Every  where,  be  it  dry  or  wet, 
And  market-night  in  the  Haymarket." 


94  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

These  Lectures,  we  trust,  are  beginning  already  to  fos- 
ter a  wide  and  generous  catholicity  of  taste.  A  main 
object  with  us  will  be — quoting  from  a  rich  variety  of 
authors,  to  widen  your  intellectual  sympathies,  so  that 
you  shall  enjoy  good  writers,  to  what  school  of  style  so- 
ever they  may  belong.  Not  long  since  a  contributor 
to  Putnam  s  Monthly  tried  to  prove,  with  Professor  Ay- 
toun,  of  Edinburgh,  that  ballad  poetry  alone  is  poetry. 
.There  are  many,  too,  who  insist  that  Pope,  and  writers 
such  as  he,  who  dwell  chiefly  on  the  social  interests  and 
the  elegancies  of  refined  life,  are  no  poets  at  all.  Such 
ideas  are  as  narrow  and  sectarian  as  his  would  be  who 
should  maintain,  because  the  garden -rose  is  not  the 
mountain-heath,  that  therefore  the  rose  belongs  not  at 
all  to  the  fair  sisterhood  of  flowers.  The  man  who  can 
partake  with  relish  of  but  one  dish  has  conspired  suc- 
cessfully against  his  own  enjoyment.  Let  it  be  part  of 
our  philosophy  of  life  and  of  criticism  to  cultivate  a  quick 
eye  for  all  varieties  of  excellence :  let  us  .love  the  mount- 
ain-oak that  braves  the  storm,  the  violet  that  peeps 
through  the  moss,  and  even  the  mignon^te  that  breathes 
its  tiny  fragrance  from  the  window-sill.  On  the  same 
principle  let  us  read  with  delight  the  stern,  keen  satire ; 
the  polished  verses  of  society ;  the  high  meditations 
of  Wordsworth  ;  the  simple  lark  -  song  of  Burns  ;  the 
harsh  daguerreotyping  of  Crabbe ;  the  tragic  terrors  of 
Shakespeare ;  the  thunder-notes  of  Milton.  There  are, 
whose  affectation  it  is  to  despise  Pope.  How  is  it  pos- 
sible for  any  one  to  do  so  who  has  actually  read  him? 
Is  there  one  who  can  despise  the  following,  addressed  to 
a  friend  in  reference  to  the  poet's  aged  and  infirm  mother : 

"  O  friend,  may  each  domestic  bliss  be  thine ! 
Be  no  unpleasing  melancholy  mine ! 
Me  let  the  tender  office  long  engage 
To  rock  the  cradle  of  declining  age; 
With  lenient  arts  extend  a  mother's  breath, 
Make  languor  smile  and  smooth  the  bed  of  death; 


Figures  of  Etymology.  95 

Explore  the  thought,  explain  the  asking  eye, 
And  keep  at  least  one  parent  from  the  sky." 

"  Joanna  Baillie,"  says  Mrs.  Jamieson,  "  had  a  great  ad- 
miration of  Macaulay's  Roman  ballads."  "  But,"  said 
some  one,  "do  you  really  account  them  poetry?"  She 
replied,  "They  are  poetry,  if  the  sounds  of  the  war- 
trumpet  be  music." 

The  Rev.  William  Lisle  Bowles  is  still  remembered  by 
a  petite  volume  of  sonnets,  only  fourteen  in  number, 
highly  finished,  but  possessing  little  force.  His  edition 
of  Pope  led  him  to  argue  that — 

"All  images  drawn  from  what  is  beautiful  or  sublime  in  the 
works  of  nature  are  more  beautiful  or  sublime  than  any  images 
drawn  from  art." 

Byron  replied  that  a  ship  in  the  wind,  with  all  sail  set,  is 
a  more  poetical  object  than  a  hog  in  the  wind ;  though 
the  hog  is  all  nature,  and  the  ship  is  all  art.  Beware  of 
being  narrow  or  sectarian  in  your  taste  in  literature. 


96  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FIGURES   OF   SYNTAX. 

PART    FIRST. 
Ellipsis. — Asyndeton,  or  Lack  of  "  Ands" 

HAVING  discussed  eighteen  figures  of  Etymology,  fig- 
ures of  Syntax  we  reach  next,  deviations  from  the  ordi- 
nary construction  of  words.  We  have  now  attained  a 
higher  round  of  the  ladder.  But  for  such  deviations, 
style  would  be  tame  and  monotonous;  grammar  would 
fetter  too  closely  the  free  movements  of  the  mind,  flash- 
ing forth  its  fire  and  electric  glow.  For  figures  are  struck 
out,  not  by  the  whim  or  at  the  prompting  of  rhetoricians, 
but  at  the  bidding  of  the  soul.  In  classifying  figures  we 
are  recording,  not  inventing,  phenomena ;  and  these,  phe- 
nomena at  once  of  language  and  of  mind — of  mind  yearn- 
ing to  move  freely  and  variously;  a  yearning  strong  in 
proportion  to  the  degree  of  mental  life ;  as  the  fir,  in  the 
joy  and  vigor  of  its  young  existence,  strikes  its  roots  in 
every  direction,  in  the  cliff  and  through  its  Alpine  crev- 
ices, and  tosses  its  defiant  head,  varying  every  instant  in 
the  breeze. 

But,  on  the  other  hand,  the  mind,  in  itc  depth  and 
grandeur,  recognizes,  also,  the  claims  of  order  and  law ; 
bows  before  these  claims  with  inborn  reverence ;  feels 
that  through  obedience  to  them  its  strength  will  be 
mightily  increased.  Hence  came  Grammar ;  hence  it  hap- 
pens that  \hz  permitted  figures  of  syntax,  or  licenses  of 
construction,  are  limited,  ascertainable,  can  be  classified. 
In  studying  the  legitimate  vagaries  of  language  and  its 
great  laws,  we  are  studying  the  mind  of  man  in  its  deep- 
est recesses ;  we  have  entered  on  the  sublime  domain  of 


Figures  of  Syntax.  97 

psychology,  or  the  strength  and  beauty  of  the  soul.  Mark 
this  axiom  carefully :  All  genuine  study  of  language  car- 
ries you  into  the  study  of  mind ;  and  is  in  affinity  with 
the  Deathless,  the  Immutable,  the  Divine. 

XIX.  Omission,  or  Ellipsis,  is  one  of  the  most  com- 
mon usages  of  speech,  and  is  so  numerous  in  its  varieties 
as  to  deserve  a  volume  to  itself;  we  utter  few  sentences 
without  it ;  the  omission  of  a  word  or  words  necessary 
to  complete  the  grammatical  construction,  though  not 
necessary  to  make  the  meaning  precise.  Cumbrous  would 
style  be  without  this ;  it  is  demanded  by  the  free  soul's 
thirst  for  free  movement,  so  that  style  may  be  wings, 
not  chains.  It  is  an  approach  to  disembodied  spirit,  and 
hints  a  longing  in  that  way. 

You  detect  ellipsis  in  Fontenelle's  saying  : 

"  Women  are  the  opposite  of  clocks :  the  clocks  serve  to  re- 
mind us  of  the  hours  j  the  women,  to  make  us  forget  them." 

There  were  few  words  in  the  retort  which  Pope  once 
provoked.  He  had  taunted  a  young  officer  with  his  ig- 
norance. The  poet  was  small  and  crooked : 

"  Could  you  so  much  as  tell  me  what  a  point  of  interroga- 
tion is  ?" 

Not  so  much  as  a  verb  in  the  reply.  With  a  wave  of  his 
hand  toward  the  poet,  the  youth  answered — 

"  A  little  crooked  thing  that  asks  questions." 

In  almost  all  short  repartees  the  force  and  effect  are  a 
good  deal  owing  to  ellipsis.  A  dull  writer  was  remark- 
ing that  he  and  the  distinguished  Frenchman,  Guizot, 
rowed  in  the  same  boat,  both  being  writers  of  history : 

"  You  row  in  the  same  boat,"  Douglas  Jerrold  replied,  "  but 
not  with  the  same  sculls." 

Foote,  the  comedian  and  farce-writer,  passing  one  day 
along  a  humble  London  street,  noticed  an  odd  elliptical 
inscription  over  the  door  of  a  mean-looking  barber's  shop : 

G 


98  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Here  lives  Jemmy  Wright — 
Shaves  as  well  as  any  man  in  England; 
Almost,  not  quite." 

Most  of  the  windows  had  paper  in  them  instead  of  glass, 
Foote  determined  to  see  the  author  of  such  original  lines ; 
he  popped  his  head  fairly  through  a  paper  pane,  and 
shouted  inside — 

"  Is  Jemmy  Wright  at  home  ?" 

Jemmy,  with  the  greatest  good -humor  in  the  world, 
popped  his  head  through  the  adjoining  pane,  which  was 
of  paper  too,  and  exclaimed — 

"  No,  sir  !     He's  just  popped  out." 

In  Punch's  "  Poetical  Cookery  Book  "  is  the  following 
recipe  for  boiling  chicken,  a  parody  on  Moore's  "  Dorah 
Creina :" 

"  Lesbia  hath  a  fowl  to  cook, 

But  being  anxious  not  to  spoil  it, 
Searches  carefully  our  book 

For  how  to  roast  and  how  to  boil  it. 
Sweet  it  is  to  dine  upon, 

Quite  alone  when  small  its  size  is ; 
And  when  cleverly  'tis  done, 

Its  delicacy  much  surprises. 

0  my  tender  pullet  dear, 

My  boil'd,  not  roasted,  tender  chicken; 

1  can  wish  no  other  dish, 

With  thee  supplied,  my  tender  chicken !" 

Your  author  presumes  to  intrude  on  you  an  instance, 
and  more  than  one : 

"  Hast  ne'er  beheld,  while  spring's  fresh  winds  were  sighing, 
When  from  a  nest  all  ruffled  by  the  blast, 

One  of  the  brood  was  cast, 
The  mother-bird  with  patient  labor  trying 
To  lift  it  back  ?     So  God  thee  to  his  breast — 

That  softest,  safest  nest." 


Figures  of  Syntax.  99 

In  advertisements  or  telegrams,  where  every  word  has 
to  be  paid  for,  one  learns  right  speedily  to  value  high 
the  market  worth  of  ellipses.  In  the  following  anecdote 
the  advertising  style  is  mimicked.  During  the  last  years 
of  his  life  McDonald  Clark,  known  in  New  York  as  the 
mad  poet,  was  made  free  of  the  Astor  House  table.  Ev- 
ery one  knew  him  by  sight,  and  one  day,  while  quietly 
taking  his  dinner,  two  persons,  seating  themselves  oppo- 
site, began  a  conversation  intended  for  his  ears.  One 
said: 

" '  Well,  I  have  been  in  New  York  two  months,  and  have  seen 
all  I  wish  to  see — with  one  exception.'  'What  is  that?'  said 
the  other.  '  McDonald  Clark,  the  great  poet,'  responded  Num- 
ber One,  with  solemn  emphasis.  Clark  raised  his  eyes  slowly 
from  his  plate,  and  seeing  the  attention  of  the  table  was  on 
him,  stood  up,  placing  his  hand  over  his  heart,  and  bowing 
with  great  gravity  to  the  two,  said,  'I  am  McDonald  Clark, 
the  great  poet.'  The  two  started  in  mock  surprise,  gazed  at 
him  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  then,  amid  an  audible 
titter  of  the  company,  one  of  them  drew  from  his  pocket  a 
quarter  dollar,  and,  laying  it  before  Clark,  still  looked  at  him 
without  a  smile.  Clark  lifted  the  coin  in  silence  and  dignity; 
put  it  in  his  pocket,  drew  thence  a  shilling,  which  he  deposited 
before  the  man,  with  these  words — *  Children,  half  price.'  The 
titter  changed  into  loud  laughter,  and  the  two  disappeared  in 
shame." 

In  Dr.  Johnson's  best  poem,  "  The  Vanity  of  Human 
Wishes,"  repeated  ellipses  occur  in  his  spirited  picture 
of  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden : 

"  A  frame  of  adamant,  a  soul  of  fire, 
No  dangers  fright  him  and  no  labors  tire; 
O'er  love,  o'er  fear,  extends  his  wide  domain — 
Unconquer'd  lord  of  pleasure  and  of  pain. 
The  march  begins  in  military  state, 
And  nations  on  his  eye  suspended  wait. 
Stern  Famine  guards  the  solitary  coast, 
And  Winter  barricades  the  realms  of  frost. 


ioo         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

He  comes;  nor  want  nor  cold  his  course  delay! 

Hide,  blushing  Glory  !  hide  Pultowa's  day ! 

His  fall  was  destined  to  a  barren  strand, 

A  petty  fortress,  and  a  dubious  hand. 

He  left  the  name  at  which  the  world  grew  pale, 

To  point  a  moral,  or  adorn  a  tale." 

Look  we,  for  a  moment,  to  the  highest  region.  The 
grand,  massive  Hebrew  of  the  Old  Testament,  in  its 
many  poetic  passages,  is  full  of  this  figure.  Take  an 
instance  from  Habakkuk.  The  translation  is  by  Pro- 
fessor B.  B.  Edwards,  and  is  a  good  specimen  of  that 
thorough  version  which  the  churches  are  beginning  to 
long  for: 

"Jehovah  looketh  forth  and  maketh  the  nations  tremble! 

Broken  to  pieces  are  the  everlasting  mountains; 

Sank  down  the  eternal  hills. 

His  ways  are  everlasting. 

Saw  Thee,  and  quaked  the  mountains  ! 

Uttered  the  Deep  His  voice  ! 

High  lifted  He  his  hands  ! 

Sun,  Moon,  stood  in  their  tent 

At  the  splendor  of  the  lightning  of  Thy  spear: 

Thou  didst  trample  on  the  sea  with  Thy  horses, 

On  the  foaming  of  the  mighty  waters." 

The  common  version,  though  it  brings  out  the  main 
truths  of  the  vast  original,  yet  does  not  bring  out  one 
thousandth  part  of  its  sublimity,  power,  beauty,  poesy, 
and  matchless  precision.  Shame  on  those  feuds  that 
make  it  still  difficult  to  bring  together  the  churches,  so 
as  to  make  a  new  version  possible.  How  in  the  original 
Hebrew  the  grand  thoughts,  ablaze  with  God  their  sun- 
rise, often  stand  out  in  impressive  isolation,  like  mount- 
ain-peaks apart,  Sierra-like ;  a  style  reappearing  in  the  cry 
of  Advent :  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest !  on  earth, 
peace!  toward  man,  good-will!"  How  admirably  ellip- 
ses suit  this  kind  of  mental  scenery  of  Alpine  abrupt- 
ness !  How  deep  and  solemn  the  sources  of  such  rhetoric 


Figures  of  Syntax: 

as  this  !     How  false  and  mean  the  modern  notion  of  the 
rhetorical  ! 

In  ellipsis  even  the  verb  is  sometimes  left  out  —  a  char- 
acteristic of  the  Roman  Sallust,  in  his  two  masterpieces, 
the  "  Catiline  "  and  the  "  Jugurtha."  This  gives  the  feel- 
ing of  a  rapid  heaping  up  of  circumstances  ;  or  of  a  hor- 
ror or  a  triumph  too  big  for  utterance.  Bishop  Doane, 
in  1855,  preached  a  sermon  on  a  frightful  railway  colli- 
sion on  the  Camden  and  Amboy  Railroad.  He  thus  pro- 
ceeded : 

"  There  needs  no  preacher  to  bring  this  mournful  providence 
home  to  your  heart  of  hearts.  Those  nearing  trains  !  The 
crash  !  Car  rushing  into  the  midst  of  car  !  The  cloud  of  dust  ! 
The  storm  of  splinters  !  The  groans  !  The  shrieks  !  The 
wounded  !  The  crushed  !  The  torn  asunder  !  The  buried 
alive  !  The  dying  !  The  dead  !  Our  public  hall  a  receiving- 
vault  for  unknown  corpses  !" 

Edgar  A.  Poe,  in  the  "  Raven,"  a  poem  that  thrills 
with  irresistible  power  all  whom  the  wild  and  mystic  en- 
thrall, has  a  happy  instance,  and  many  a  one,  of  ellipsis 
of  the  verb  : 

"Once  upon  a  midnight  dreary,  while  I  pondered  weak  and 

weary 

Over  many  a  quaint  and  curious  volume  of  forgotten  lore, 
While  I  nodded  nearly  napping,  suddenly  there  came  a  tap- 


As  of  some  one  gently  rapping,  rapping  at  my  chamber  door  : 
Only  this,  and  nothing  more." 

Dr.  Snodgrass,  a  doctor  who  attended  Poe  during  his 
last  illness,  communicated  some  years  since  to  a  temper- 
ance journal  an  affecting  account  of  the  close  of  his  life: 

"On  a  chilly  and  wet  November  evening  I  received  a  note 
stating  that  a  man  answering  to  the  name  of  Edgar  Allan  Poe, 
who  claimed  to  know  me,  was  at  a  drinking-saloon  in  Lombard 
Street,  in  Baltimore,  in  a  state  of  deep  intoxication  and  great 
destitution.  I  repaired  immediately  to  the  spot.  It  was  an 


Might  cmd  Mirth  of  Literature. 

election  day.  When  I  entered  the  bar-room  of  the  house,  I 
instantly  recognized  the  face  of  one  whom  I  had  often  seen 
and  knew  well,  although  it  wore  an  aspect  of  vacant  stupidity 
that  made  me  shudder.  The  intellectual  flash  of  his  eye  had 
vanished,  or  rather  had  been  quenched  in  the  bowl,  bilt  the 
broad,  capacious  forehead  of  the  author  of  the  "  Raven  "  was 
still  there,  with  width  in  the  region  of  ideality  such  as  few  men 
ever  possessed.  He  was  so  utterly  stupefied  with  liquor  that 
I  thought  it  best  not  to  seek  recognition  or  conversation,  es- 
pecially as  he  was  surrounded  by  a  crowd  of  gentlemen  actu- 
ated by  idle  curiosity  rather  than  sympathy.  I  immediately 
ordered  a  room  for  him,  where  he  could  be  comfortable  until 
I  got  word  to  his  relatives,  for  there  were  several  in  Baltimore. 
Just  at  that  moment  one  or  two  of  the  persons  referred  to,  get- 
ting information,  arrived  at  the  spot.  They  declined  to  take 
private  care  of  him,  for  the  reason  that  he  had  been  very  abu- 
sive and  ungrateful  on  all  occasions  when  drunk,  and  advised 
that  he  be  sent  to  a  hospital.  He  was  accordingly  placed  in 
a  coach,  and  conveyed  to  the  Washington  College  Hospital. 
So  insensible  was  he  that  we  had  to  carry  him  to  a  carriage  as 
if  a  corpse.  The  muscles  of  articulation  seemed  paralyzed  to 
speechlessness,  and  mere  incoherent  mutterings  were  all  that 
were  heard. 

"  He  died  in  the  hospital  after  some  three  or  four  days,  dur- 
ing which  time  he  enjoyed  only  occasional  and  fitful  seasons 
of  consciousness.  His  disease  was  mania  a  potu :  a  disease 
whose  finale  is  always  fearful  in  its  maniacal  manifestations. 
In  one  of  his  more  lucid  moments,  when  asked  by  the  physi- 
cian whether  he  would  like  to  see  his  friends,  he  exclaimed: 
'  Friends  !  my  best  friend  would  be  he  who  would  take  a  pistol 
and  blow  my  brains  out,  and  thus  relieve  me  of  my  agony.' 
These  were  among  his  last  words." 

Few  poems  do  we  possess  nobler  than  Akenside's 
"  Pleasures  of  the  Imagination."  In  the  close  of  his 
famous  lines  on  Brutus's  slaughter  of  Caesar,  a  fine 
ellipsis  occurs : 

"  For  lo  !  the  tyrant  prostrate  in  the  dust, 
And  Rome  again  is  free." 


Figures  of  Syntax.  103 

Or  from  a  sermon  by  the  wonderful  Christmas  Evans, 
we  take  a  scene  in  a  grave-yard : 

"  At  this  moment  Justice  appeared,  as  if  to  watch  the  gate ; 
for  it  is  the  grave-yard  of  fallen  humanity.  The  angels  asked, 
'  Why  wilt  thou  not  suffer  Mercy  to  enter  ?'  He  sternly  replied, 
'  The  law  is  broken,  and  it  must  be  honored.  Die  they,  or  Jus- 
tice must.' " 

Mark  how  inversion  and  ellipsis  unite  to  make  the  last 
sentence  like  a  rapier's  thrust. 

In  Andrew  Cherry's  admirable  sea-song,  "  The  Bay  of 
Biscay,  O,"  mark  the  fine  effect  of  the  omission  of  the 
verb: 

"  The  night  both  drear  and  dark — 
Our  poor  devoted  bark  ! 
Till  next  day,  there  she  lay 
In  the  Bay  of  Biscay,  O." 

Alfred  B.  Street  paints  with  much  vigor  the  gray  forest 
eagle  and  its  haunts.  There  is  no  want  of  ellipses  here : 

"  With  storm-daring  pinion  and  sun-gazing  eye 
The  gray  forest  eagle  is  king  of  the  sky. 
O  little  he  loves  the  green  valley  of  flowers, 
Where  sunshine  and  song  cheer  the  bright  summer  hours; 
But  the  dark,  gloomy  gorge  where  down  plunges  the  foam 
Of  the  fierce  rock-lashed  torrent  he  claims  as  his  home. 
There  he  blends  his  keen  shriek  with  the  roar  of  the  flood, 
And  the  many-voiced  sounds  of  the  blast-smitten  wood." 

How  long,  how  deeply  have  the  glories  of  war  be- 
witched mankind !  From  W.  H.  C.  Hosmer  we  take  these 
nobly  conceived,  classically  expressed  lines,  occurring  in 
the  seventh  canto  of  his  "  Yonnondio :" 

"  Thou  phantom,  Military  Fame  ! 
How  long  will  Genius  laud  thy  name ! 
And  curtain  features  from  the  sight 

More  foul  than  those  Khorassan's  seer 
Hid  behind  veil  of  silver  bright, 

Tempting  his  victim  to  draw  near. 


IO4          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter atiire. 

How  long  will  thy  misleading  lamp 

Through  regions  wrapped  in  smoke  and  fire 

To  Slaughter's  cavern,  red  and  damp, 

Guide  beardless  boy  and  gray-hair'd  sire ! 

Up  !  fearless  battlers  for  the  Right ! 

And  flood  old  groaning  earth  with  light. 

Bid  nations  ponder  well,  and  pause 

When  blade  corrupt  Ambition  draws ! 

O  teach  the  world  that  Conquest  wears 

A  darker  brand  than  felon  bears; 

Prolific  fount,  from  earliest  time, 

Of  Murder,  Orphanage,  and  Crime." 

To  thoroughly  understand  many  points  in  English 
grammar,  many  a  usage  in  English  speech,  we  need  to 
study  the  Anglo-Saxon,  the  mother-tongue  of  our  moth- 
er-tongue, and  so  our  venerable  grandmother-tongue. 
For  instance,  the  articles  were  often  left  out  by  the  Sax- 
on bards ;  hence  a  main  source  of  that  obscurity  which 
not  seldom  marks  the  old  Saxon  verse,  which  abounds 
to  excess  in  ellipses,  so  as  to  seem,  too  often,  a  collection 
of  broken  hints  and  ejaculations.  King  Alfred,  noblest 
of  English  monarchs,  wrote  thus  in  prose : 

"  So  doth  the  moon  with  his  pale  light,  that  the  bright  stars 
he  obscureth  in  the  heavens." 

But  in  poetry  he  expresses  himself  thus,  obscurity  being 
guarded  against  by  some  very  emphatic  delivery,  and  by 
the  accompaniment  of  the  harp : 

"With  pale  light, 
Bright  stars 
Moon  lesseneth." 

So  venerable  is  ellipsis  in  our  speech,  especially  in  poetry. 
We  have  already  introduced  to  you  Ben  Jonson, 
Shakespeare's  contemporary.  When  a  common  soldier, 
he  accepted  the  defiance  of  a  gigantic  foe,  and  slew  him 
in  front  of  the  two  armies.  Bred  in  the  Church  of  En- 


Figures  of  Syntax.  105 

gland,  he  became  for  a  time  a  Roman  Catholic ;  and 
when,  in  advanced  life,  he  joined  the  Church  of  England 
again,  he  quaffed  off  a  whole  gobletful  of  wine  handed 
to  him  in  the  sacrament,  to  testify,  he  averred,  how  heart- 
ily he  returned  to  his  first  fold.  On  his  death-bed  he 
left  directions  to  bury  him  standing  on  his  feet ;  the  coffin 
was  to  be  placed  on  end  in  the  grave,  that  he  might  be 
ready  to  start  at  the  resurrection.  Mark  in  the  follow- 
ing piece  by  him  the  elastic,  pellucid  elegance  of  his 
diction: 

"  Have  you  seen  but  a  bright  lily  grow 

Before  rude  hands  have  touch'd  it  ? 
Have  you  mark'd  but  the  fall  of  the  snow 

Before  the  soil  hath  smutch'd  it  ? 
Have  you  felt  the  wool  of  the  beaver, 
Or  swan's-down  ever  ? 

Or  smelt  o'  the  brier, 

Or  the  nard  in  the  fire  ? 
Or  tasted  the  bag  of  the  bee  ? 
O  so  white,  O  so  soft,  O  so  sweet  is  she  !" 

Lord  Craven,  in  the  reign  of  James  I.,  was  anxious  to 
see  Ben  Jonson,  who  bears  in  English  literature  the  two 
epithets  of  "  Stout  "  and  "  Rare/'  When  the  dramatist 
went  to  his  lordship's  mansion,  the  porter  refused  to  ad- 
mit him,  his  dress  was  so  shabby.  Rough  language,  in 
which  Ben  excelled,  passed  between  the  two.  His  lord- 
ship heard  the  din,  and  came  to  the  door: 

"I  understood  your  lordship  wished  to  see  me." — "You, 
friend  !  Why,  who  may  you  be  ?" — "  I  am  Ben  Jonson." — "  No, 
no !  You  can  not  be  the  great  author  who  wrote  '  The  Silent 
Woman.'  You  look  as  if  you  could  not  say  *  Bo'  to  a  goose." — 
The  poetiooked  straight  in  the  nobleman's  face,  with  a  com- 
ical air,  and  cried,  "  Bo !" — "  I  am  now  convinced,"  said  the 
nobleman,  "  that  you  are  Ben  Jonson." 

There  are  what  we  may  call  Ellipses  Complimentary; 
as  when  a  letter  was  sent  to  the  illustrious  Newton,  ad- 


io6          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

dressed  "  Mr.  Newton,  Europe/'  which  came  safely  to  the 
Unequaled.  A  young  officer,  invited  to  dine  with  Gen- 
eral Wolfe,  him  who  fell  at  Quebec,  was  saying,  with  a 
strut,  to  a  friend : 

"  I  dine  with  Wolfe  to-day." — Wolfe  happened  to  hear  this, 
and  said  to  him  :  "  You  might  say  '  General  Wolfe ;'  that  would 
be  more  respectful." — "Pardon  me,  sir,"  was  the  quick- reply; 
"but  we  never  say  General  Caesar,  General  Alexander." 

Richard  Lovelace,  whose  style  is  very  elegant,  gives 
us  a  noble  sentiment : 

"Tell  me  not,  sweet,  I  am  unkind; 

That  from  the  nunnery 
Of  thy  chaste  breast  and  quiet  mind 

To  war  and  arms  I  flee. 
Yet  this  inconstancy  is  such 

As  you,  too,  should  adore ; 
I  could  not  love  thee,  dear,  so  much, 

Loved  I  not  honor  more." 

Take  note  of  the  omission  of  "  if"  in  the  last  line. 

From  Matthew  Prior  comes  this,  in  a  different  strain  : 

"  On  his  death-bed  poor  Lubin  lies ; 

His  spouse  is  in  despair; 
With  frequent  sobs  and  mutual  sighs 

They  both  express  their  care. 
*  A  different  cause/  says  Parson  Sly, 

'  The  same  effects  may  give — 
Poor  Lubin  fears  that  he  may  die, 

His  wife  that  he  may  live.' " 

We  here  wish  you  to  remark  that  as  ellipsis  is  more 
freely  permitted  to  the  poet  than  to  the — our  language 
wants  a  word — prosist,  therefore  a  master  of  long  can 
condense  more  meaning  into  smaller  space  in  verse  than 
he  could  in  prose ;  so  inexcusable  are  the  writers  of  un- 
meaning lines.  Never  be  satisfied  with  poetry  unless  it 
run  over  with  meaning. 


Figures  of  Syntax.  107 

It  is  in  good  part  owing  to  fine  omissions  of  single 
words,  and,  what  is  finer  still,  to  skillful  omission  of  cir- 
cumstances, which  the  reader  can  supply,  that  there  is 
such  a  charm  of  rapid  narrative  in  Leigh  Hunt's  ballad 
"  The  Glove."  King  Francis,  of  France,  with  his  lords 
and  ladies,  was  looking  at  the  king's  lions  sporting: 

"Romped  and  roared  the  lions  with  horrid  laughing  jaws; 
They  bit;  they  glared;  gave  blows  like  beams;  a  wind  went 

with  their  paws ; 
With  wallowing  might  and  stifled  roar  they  rolled,  on  one 

another ; 
Till  all  the  pit,  with  sand  and  mane,  was  in  a  thundering 

smother. 
The  bloody  foam  above  the  bars  came  whisking  through  the 

air; 
Said  Francis  then, '  Troth,  gentlemen,  we're  better  here  than 

there.' " 

Inasmuch  as  the  P.  L.  —  incomparably  the  greatest 
poem,  not  dramatic,  ever  written  by  man,  a  production 
which  we  owe  to  Christianity — owes  much  of  its  force  to 
ellipsis,  it  is  well  to  bring  in  here  Sir  Egerton  Brydges's 
general  summary  of  Milton's  style : 

"The  condensed  collocation  of  Milton's  language  is  peculiar 
to  himself.  Its  breaks,  its  bursts ;  the  strong,  the  rough,  and 
the  flowing;  the  concise  and  the  gigantic,  are  mingled,  with  a 
surprising  skill,  and  eloquence,  and  magic.  It  is  easy  to  find 
single  gems  in  other  authors — the  galaxy  is  the  wonder.  Mil- 
ton's splendor,  when  it  began  to  rise,  did  not  stop  till  it  blazed." 

To  read  not  only,  but  to  study  the  P.  L.,  is  not  merely 
a  delight  and  a  privilege,  but  a  sacred  duty.  Avail  your- 
self of  the  invaluable  helps  which  are  afforded  by  Boyd's 
"  Notes." 

The  chief  reason  of  the  heap  of  unnecessary  words, 
or  rubbish,  which  we  too  often  use,  is  the  not  having  a 
precise  idea  of  the  thing  we  are  depicting;  consequently, 
we  keep  talking  about  it  and  about  it,  in  a  jumble  of 


io8          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

verbiage.  It  is  a  misfortune,  also,  not  to  know  the  very 
term,  usually  but  one,  that  best  suits  the  place ;  for  sel- 
dom are  there  two  words  exactly  synonymous.  Abun- 
dant translating  of  Latin  and  Greek  into  English  gives, 
better  than  aught  else  in  the  world,  training  on  the  sec- 
ond point  here  specified ;  on  the  first  point,  exact  infor- 
mation must  be  poured  into  the  mind.  Ponder  Remark 
First,  page  xlix.  A  French  gentleman,  who  knew  that 
Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  had  written  a  periodical  called  the 
Rambler,  said  to  him  when  dining  with  him : 

"  May  I  have  the  plaisir  of  to  drink  the  vine  with  you,  Mr. 
Vagabond." 

As  this  point  of  ellipsis  is  one,  fully  to  attend  to  which 
will  much  aid  toward  a  deep  acquaintance  with  English, 
we  proceed  to  minute  details ;  by  no  means  attempting 
a  complete  list  of  ellipses,  yet  specifying  a  few.  We 
give  a  table  of  twenty-nine  varieties.  It  is  asserted  that 
there  are  six  hundred  varieties  of  snow-flakes ;  we  have 
no  doubt  there  are  as  many  varieties  of  ellipsis.  Let 
the  reader  of  this  volume,  who  is  wise  enough  to  strive 
to  be  a  student  of  it,  give  at  least  a  fortnight  to  classi- 
fying, two  hundred  different  sorts  of  ellipses  from  Milton 
and  from  Shakespeare.  The  result  will  astound  him. 
Meanwhile  we  collect,  with  microscopic  gaze,  the  smaller 
number  of  twenty-nine. 

1.  The  antecedent  pronoun  is  omitted,  as  by  Dana — 

"  Who  has  no  inward  beauty,  none  perceives, 
Though  all  around  be  beautiful." 

This  omission  of  the  antecedent  pronoun  is  very  com- 
mon in  Caesar  and  in  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics.  See 
the  first  sentence  of  the  "  Commentaries  " — "  qui,"  for  ii 
qui.  We  may  state  here  that  Dana's  "  Household  Book 
of  Poetry  "  is  one  of  the  best  collections  of  our  shorter 
poems ;  as  also  is  Bryant's  "  Library  of  Song.  " 

2.  The  particle  "there."     A  faithful  old  African  gave 


Figures  of  Syntax.  109 

good  advice  to  a  clergyman  who,  having  received  calls 
to  several  congregations,  did  not  know  which  to  close 
with : 

"Go,  massa,  where  is  de  most  devil." 

See  P.  L.,  v.,  348. 

3. The  relative  pronoun — "who,"  "which,"  or  "that" — 
is  very  often  left  out,  as  in  the  last  lines  of  Lord  Roches- 
ter's extempore  epitaph  on  Charles  II.  The  king — tal- 
ented, idle,  unprincipled,  good-natured  —  insisted  that 
Rochester  should  on  the  spot  write  his,  the  king's,  epi- 
taph. Rochester  favored  him  with  this : 

"  Here  lies  our  sovereign  lord  the  king, 

Whose  word  no  man  relied  on; 
Who  never  said  a  foolish  thing, 
And  never  did  a  wise  one." 

4.  The   connecting  word  "  namely,"  its  place  being 
supplied  by  a  semicolon  or  a  pause,  as  in  this  ill-natured 
saying  by  Bayle,  author  of  a  famous  work,  "  The  Critical 
Dictionary:" 

"There  is  only  one  secret  a  woman  can  keep — her  age." 

5.  "Of,"  as  in  Milton: 

"  His  ponderous  shield. 
Ethereal  temper,  massy,  large,  and  round." 

6.  The  sign  of  the  infinitive.    Phineas  Fletcher  writes : 
"With  that  a  thundering  noise  seem'd  shake  the  sky." 

7.  A  preposition :  a  form  of  the  figure  that  covers  hun- 
dreds of  cases,  as  in  "  The  Midsummer-Night's  Dream," 
by  Shakespeare ;   who  is  very  partial  to  this  usage,  and 
handles  it  most  deftly: 

"  Steal  forth  thy  father's  house  to-night." 

In  P.  L.,  i.,  722— 

"  The  ascending  pile, 
Stood  fixed  her  stately  height.'? 


no          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Or  open  the  "  Rienzi "  of  the  very  able  Miss  Mitford: 

"  Ask  Orient  gems, 

Diamonds,  and  sapphires ;  sigh  for  rarest  birds 
Of  farthest  Ind,  like  winged  flowers  to  flit 
Around  thy  stately  bower;  and  at  thy  wish 
The  precious  toys  shall  wait  fhee." 

Or  Goethe,  in  -his  noble  Christian  drama,  "  Iphigenia 
in  Tauris" — study  it  by  all  means: 

"  Ah  !  woe  is  him  who  leads  a  lonely  life." 

"  Me  seems  it"  we  meet  with  in  Gary's  "Dante."    How 
bold  and  beautiful  is  this  variety ! 

8.  "  If;"  as  in  this  statuesque  group  by  Chaucer — very 
marvelous : 

"  The  statue  of  Mars  upon  a  carte  stood, 
Armed  and  looking  grim,  as  he  were  wud  (mad); 
A  wolf  there  stood  beforne  him  at  his  feet, 
With  eyen  red;  and  of  a  man  he  ete." 

9.  The  nominative  to  the  verb  very  often,  as  in  Pick- 
ering to  the  song-sparrow : 

"  Did  the  green  isles 

Detain  thee  long  ?     Or  'mid  the  palmy  groves 
Of  the  bright  South,  where  Nature  ever  smiles, 
Didst  sing  thy  loves  ?" 

*P.  L.,  vi.,  430;  S.,  "  Coriolanus,"  act  iv.,  scene  iv.,  line  12. 

10.  The  relative  is  omitted,  while  the  antecedent  is  re- 
tained, the  opposite  usage  to  No.  I ;  figures  going  usu- 
ally, as  you  have  noticed,  in  contrasted  pairs,  like  two 
arms  to  strike  with,  right  and  left.     Thus  said  a  sen- 
ator: 

"  Are  we  a  degenerate  race  who  have  not  the  manhood  to 
preserve  that  their  fathers  won  ?" 

This  usage  is  eminently  neat  and  classical.     S.,  "Julius 
Caesar,"  act  i.,  scene  iii.,  Caesar's  I2th  speech. 


Figures  of  Syntax.  1 1 1 

11.  "  It  is"  and  "  that  it  is."     As  in  Goethe's  "  Iphi- 
genia  in  Tauris :" 

"  But  woman's  happiness  how  narrow'd  in."' 

S.,  "  Julius  Caesar,"  act  ii.,  line  3. 

12.  More  widely,  the.  verb  "  to  be"  in  some  part  of 
it,  together  with  the  demonstrative  adverb  "  there ;"  as 
in  Marvell's  well-known  ode ;  of  the  great  Cromwell  he 
says: 

"What  field  in  all  our  civil  wars, 
Where  his  were  not  the  chiefest  scars  ?" 

13.  "Able  to."     When  the  author  of  the  "Seasons" 
was  told  that  a  certain  learned  Londoner,  Glover,  was 
writing  "  Leonidas,"  an  epic  poem,  he  cried : 

"  He  write  an  epic  poem  !  It  is  impossible.  He  never  saw 
a  mountain  in  his  life  !" 

James  Thomson  was  born  and  John  Dryden  died  in  the 
same  year,  1700.  It  is  plain  that  when  Thomson  uttered 
that  exclamation  the  artificial  age  of  English  poetry 
was  nearly  gone ;  star  and  waterfall  were  again  to  be  in- 
voked ;  Burns  and  Cowper  were  at  the  door. 

14.  A  verb  which  in  strict  grammar  should  be  repeat- 
ed.    Two  city  men,  very  smart  as  they  thought,  travel- 
ing in  a  remote  district  in  the  Highlands  of  Aberdeen- 
shire,  not  far  from  the  Queen's  autumn  residence  at  Bal- 
moral— not  a  French  locality,  Balmoral — came   on   an 
aged  shepherd : 

"You  have  a  wide  view  from  these  mountains,"  said  they. — 
"  Yes,  that's  true,"  said  the  shepherd. — "  You  can  see,"  said 
they,  "America  from  here." — "  Muckle  farrer  than  that,"  he 
replied. — "  Ah,  how  can  that  be?" — "  Whan  the  mist  drives  aff, 
ye  can  see  the  mune." 

15.  "Merciful"  is  used  for  Merciful  One;   "  Holiest" 
for  Holiest  One,  and  the  like ;  as  by  Milman : 


1 1 2          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Thou  knowest,  Merciful, 
That  knowest  all  things !     Thou  didst  come, 
O  Holiest,  to  this  world  of  sin  and  gloom." 

P.  L.,  vi.,  131.     S.,  "  As  You  Like  It,"  act  v.,  Duke's 
speech,  line  7,  Senior  Duke. 

16.  A  negative,  or  more  than  one.    John  A.  Shea  thus 
addresses  the  Ocean : 

"  Fleets,  tempests,  nor  nations 

Thy  glory  can  bow ; 
As  the  stars  first  beheld  thee, 
Still  stainless  art  thou." 

17.  The  article.    P.  L.,xii.,  533.    S.,  "  Antony  and  Cleo- 
patra," act  ii.,  scene  ii.,  Antony's  1 3th  speech.    This  omis- 
sion of  "  the "  has  many  a  fine  effect  in  the  Hebrew. 
As  in  Psalm  lv.,  8 : 

"  I  will  hasten  my  escape  from  rushing  wind,  from  tempest." 

It  has  long  been  fashionable  to  denounce  the  heavy  te- 
diousness  of  Milton ;  how  he  burdens  his  pages  with  that 
dreadful  thing,  creed.  Milton  was  right ;  his  theology 
is  indestructible.  Truth  will  make  his  poesy  deathless ; 
whereas  poesy  alone  will  never  make  poetry  immortal. 
The  poets  of  the  day  should  bethink  them  of  what  need 
there  is  to  link  their  pretty  thoughts  with  enduring 
truths,  or  with  some  enduring  cause  or  heart-shaking 
tale,  as  Virgil  his  "  ^Eneid  "  with  the  birth  and  fortunes 
of  Rome,  and  Homer  his  two  epics  with  "  Hellas."  Ever 
and  again  Milton's  theology  will  bring  his  poetry  into 
prominence.  It  will  be  pondered  for  instruction  and 
guidance.  The  poetry  that  aspires  to  live  must  be  a 
means  even  more  than  an  end.  Well  said  Addison  of 
"  Paradise  Lost :" 

"This  work  is  more  useful  and  instructive  than  any  other 
poem  in  any  language." 

1 8.  Ellipses,  nobler  and  bolder,  use  words   as  mere 


Figures  of  Syntax.  113 

hints,  letting  many  expressions  be  guessed  at  from  the 
context.  This  may  be  carried  to  the  excess  of  obscu- 
rity ;  but  it  is  often  exceedingly  grand.  Milton  has 
much  of  it,  yet  is  seldom  or  never  obscure — xii.,  600 : 

"  The  great  deliverance  by  her  seed  to  come 
(For  by  the  woman's  seed)  on  all  mankind." 

19.  The  verb  of  questioning  and  the  verb  of  reply ;  as 
in  Tennyson's  poem  "  The  Princess :" 

"  And,  stand  !  who  goes  ?     Two  from  the  palace." 

S.,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  act  iii.,  scene  v.,  Capulet's  ist 
speech,  line  4. 

20.  Other  verbs.     S.,  "  Coriolanus,"  act  iv.,  scene  vi. : 

"  Shall  us  to  the  Capitol  ?" 

"  Cymbeline,"  act  iv.,  scene  ii.,  Belarius's  2ist  speech,  5th 
line. 

21.  "  Do ;"  as  Shakespeare : 

"What  they  do  delay,  they  not  deny." 

22.  "  Such  ;"  as  Shakespeare : 

"  Those  arts  they  have  as  I 
Could  put  into  them." 

23.  "  Same;"  by  Shakespeare: 

"  I  am  made  of  that  self,  as  my  sister." 

24.  A  whole  clause,  with  fine  effect ;  as  suiting  the  per- 
turbation of  the  mind.     Thus  Shakespeare,  in  "  Lear," 
when  Cordelia  says — 

"  If — for  I  lack  that  glib  and  oily  art 
To  speak  and  purpose  not." 

The  full  expression  would  be :  "  If  you  cast  me  off,  for 
this  reason,  as  is  likely,  that  I  lack — " 

H 


ii4          Might  and  Mirtk  of  Literature. 

25.  "Those  of;"  as  by  Shakespeare: 

"  What  with  loathsome  smells 
And  shrieks  like  mandrakes  torn  out  of  the  earth." 

26.  "As  for;"  thus  Shakespeare: 

"  Me,  poor  man,  my  library 
Was  dukedom  large  enough." 

27.  "  Every  "  is  used  for  "  every  one  of;"  as  by  Shakes- 
peare : 

"  I'll  resolve  you 
Of  every  these  happen'd  accidents." 

28.  "  For  which;"  see  Shakespeare: 

"We  thank  you  both;  yet  one  but  flatters  us, 
As  well  appeareth  by  the  cause  you  come." 

29.  The  first  "  as."    Thus  by  Thomas  Buchanan  Read  : 

"The  mother  who  conceals  her  grief 

While  to  her  breast  her  son  she  presses, 
Then  breathes  a  few  brave  words  and  brief, 

Kissing  the  patriot  brow  she  blesses, 
With  no  one  but  her  secret  God 

To  know  the  pain  that  weighs  upon  her, 
Sheds  holy  blood  as  e'er  the  sod 

Received  on  Freedom's  field  of  honor." 

This  designedly  incomplete  list  of  ellipses  is  sufficient 
to  show  that  to  conceive  of  figurative  language  as  nec- 
essarily artificial  is  a  most  shallow  and  despicable  notion. 
Not  to  use  figures  would  often  be  the  artificial  thing. 
Burns  was  asked  to  say  grace  before  dinner.  At  the 
spur  of  the  moment  he  gave  the  following,  in  which  are 
ellipses,  how  natural : 

"There's  some  hae  meat,  but  canna  eat; 

And  some  would  eat  but  want  it; 
But  we  hae  meat,  and  we  can  eat, 
And  sae  the  Lord  be  thanked." 


Figures  of  Syntax.  115 

* 

As  eager  argument  can  scarce  stay  for  words,  we  may 
be  sure  that  Demosthenes  will  abound  in  omissions.  He 
does ;  yet  how  free  from  obscurity.  Thus  he  cries,  in 
his  First  against  Philip : 

"  Of  a  criminal,  it  is  the  part  to  die,  sentenced  by  law ;  but 
of  a  general — righting  with  his  country's  foes." 

A  specimen  of  the  noble  axioms  with  which  his  speeches 
are  interspersed. 

Let  us  now  take  at  random  a  few  ellipses ;  as  this  from 
Henry  Peacham,  on  the  flowers  of  the  field : 

"  Withal,  as  in  some  rare  limned  book,  we  see 
Here  painted  lectures  of  God's  sacred  will: 
The  daisy  teacheth  lowliness  of  mind ; 
The  camomile,  we  should  be  patient  still ; 
The  rue,  our  hate  of  vice's  poison  ill; 
The  woodbine,  that  we  should  our  friendship  hold; 
Our  hope,  the  savory,  in  the  bitterest  cold." 

The  anecdote  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson  and  the  sign- 
board shows  to  what  extreme  lengths  ellipses  may  be 
pushed.  A  person  consulted  him  as  to  what  to  put  on 
his  sign-board,  proposing  "John  Williams:  boots  and 
shoes  sold  here."  Dr.  Johnson  began  to  criticise  it : 

"  What's  the  use  of  '  here '  ?  Is  not  your  shop  seen  to  be 
here  and  not  at  the  North  Pole  ?"  [The  word  "  here  "  went  out] 
" '  Sold.'  Does  any  one  expect  to  get  them  for  nothing  ?  '  Sold ' 
is  an  insult;  you  hint  to  your  customers  that  they  are  idiots  who 
expect  to  get  boots  for  nothing."  [Out  went  "sold."]  "'John 
Williams' — ah!  What  care  I  whether  John  Williams  or  John 
Gumpus  sells  them  ?"  ["  John  Williams  "  went  out.]  " '  Boots 
and  shoes  !'  But  suppose  a  man  passes  who  can't  read  ?  His 
money  is  as  good  as  that  of  the  most  learned  professor  ?  Pray 
off  with  '  boots  and  shoes,'  and  paint  on  the  board  a  boot  and 
a  shoe." 

The  student  of  this  very  commonplace  figure  will  dis- 
cover a  thousand  capabilities  of  language  that  he  never 


1 1 6          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

j? 

dreamed  of  before,  small,  indeed,  like  the  dew-drop,  but 
as  lovely.  In  Shakespeare  especially  he  will  meet  with 
the  most  tiny  beauties  united  with  massive  grandeur,  as 
when  the  leaf  of  the  birch  twinkles  in  sunlight  over  Al- 
pine rocks.  Read  "  Coriolanus,"  "  Lear,"  "  Macbeth," 
"The  Tempest,"  "Julius  Csesar,"  "Hamlet,"  "Antony 
and  Cleopatra,"  "  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,"  "  Cym- 
beline,"  "  Merchant  of  Venice,"  "Winter's  Tale,"  "Hen- 
ry VIII."  Almost  superhuman  are  they.  Read  each 
ten  times ;  study  each  as  a  whole,  yet  go  so  close  as  to 
master  the  ellipses. 

Sydney  Smith  yields  a  large  crop.  A  medical  adviser 
counseled  him  to  rise  earlier,  and  walk  a  mile  every  morn- 
ing on  an  empty  stomach : 

"Very  willing  to  do  so;  but — on  whose  stomach?" 

A  warning,  carried  too  far,  against  the  omission  of  the 
relative  occurs  in  a  criticism  by  David  Hume,  the  rather 
untrustworthy  historian  of  England,  in  a  letter  of  his  to 
Dr.  William  Robertson,  the  historian : 

"  I  do  not  like  this  sentence  of  yours, '  This  step  was  taken 
in  consequence  of  the  treaties  Wolsey  had  concluded  with  the 
emperor  at  Brussels,  and  which  had  hitherto  been  kept  secret.' 
Certainly  it  had  been  better  to  have  said, l  which  Wolsey,'  etc. 
That  relative  ought  very  seldom  to  be  omitted,  and  is  here 
requisite  to  preserve  symmetry  between  the  two  members  of 
the  sentence.  You  omit  the  relative  too  often,  which  is  l  a  col- 
loquial barbarism,'  as  Dr.  Johnson  calls  it." 

On  the  other  hand,  we  protest  against  being  always 
tied  up  by  such  insertion.  We  demand  to  breathe  at 
times  more  freely.  Far  more  daring  omissions  than  this 
are  used  with  the  best  effect.  We  are  impudent  enough 
to  claim  that  we  have  led  you  into  a  much  deeper  study 
of  ellipsis  than  ever  Hume  undertook. 

Let  us  add  the  statement — a  truth  often  forgotten  by 
or  unknown  to  students  of  Latin  and  Greek,  and  unno- 
ticed by  even  Latin  and  Greek  grammars — that  neither 


Figures  of  Syntax.  1 1 7 

in  Latin  or  Greek  can  there  be  an  ellipsis  of  the  personal 
pronoun  from  the  verb ;  for  this  reason — that  these  per- 
sonal pronouns  form  the  personal  inflections  of  the  verb, 
as  in  some  cases  is  still  very  evident ;  thus  Amavi  is 
three  words  run  into  one,  "  Am-have  I."  When  Ego  is 
expressed,  it  is  emphatic :  "  I  have  loved,  I."  On  the 
other  hand,  it  is  the  common  Greek  usage  to  omit  the 
apodosis ;  thus,  in  Luke  xi.,  49,  where  our  translation 
reads,  "  Lord,  shall  we  smite  with  the  sword  ?"  The 
original  has  it :  "  If  we  shall  smite  with  the  sword  ?" — that 
is, "  If  we  shall  smite  with  the  sword,  will  it  please  thee?" 
So,  in  Acts  i.,  6,  the  disciples  say  to  their  Master,  not, 
"  Lord,  wiltthou  at  this  time  restore  again  the  kingdom 
to  Israel  ?"  but,  "  Lord,  if  thou  art  restoring  the  kingdom 
to  Israel  at  this  time ;"  where  the  conclusion  or  apodosis 
is  wholly  omitted. 

The  great  painter,  Hogarth,  had  been  employed  by  a 
very  plain-featured  lord  to  make  his  portrait,  and  did  so 
with  such  unflattering  truth  that  his  lordship  would  not 
pay  for  it.  On  this  Hogarth  wrote  to  him  as  follows : 

"Mr.  H.'s  dutiful  respects  to  Lord  L.  Finding  that  his  lord- 
ship does  not  n\ean  to  have  the  picture,  is  informed  again  of 
Mr.  H.'s  necessity  for  the  money.  If  his  lordship  does  not 
send  for  it  in  three  days,  it  will  be  disposed  of,  with  the  addi- 
tion of  a  tail,  to  Mr.  Hare,  the  famous  wild-beast  man,  for  an  ex- 
hibition-painting, when  it  is  thought  it  will  make  an  excellent 
monkey." 

Fear  of  the  metamorphosis  brought  in  the  cash  forth- 
with. 

XX.  Asyndeton,  Lack  of  Ands,  a  special  form  of 
this  great  figure,  falls  to  be  treated  along  with  it.  The 
birth-shout  of  a  nation  occurs  in  Exodus  xv. — a  poem 
of  liberty ;  for  the  earliest  republic  ever  born  on  earth 
was  inspired  into  being  by  miracle — by  Jehovah,  Patron- 
God  of  human  freedom,  and  in  express  preference  to 
monarchy.  No  son  of  Moses  mounted  an  hereditary 


n8          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

throne.  Pure  Judaism  frowned  alike  on  monarchy  and 
on  priestcraft.  This  poem  is  the  oldest  lyric  in  exist- 
ence; its  very  antiquity  should  make  it  venerable;  its 
occasion  should  make  it  dear  to  all  who  hate  despotism : 

"  The  enemy  said :  I  will  pursue ;  I  will  overtake ;  I  will  di- 
vide the  spoil ;  I  will  draw  my  sword ;  my  hand  shall  destroy 
them.  Thou  didst  blow  with  thy  wind ;  the  sea  covered  them ; 
they  sank  like  lead  in  the  mighty  waters." 

How  much  of  force  and  hurrying  rapidity  would  be 
lost  by  putting  in  the  "  ands."  This  is  true  to  the  heart, 
for  Passion  occupies  itself  with  great  prominent  causes 
and  large  effects;  it  is  for  cold  Reason  to  link  them  to- 
gether. Yet  too  much  of  this  gives  an  artificial  and 
forced  air ;  as  in  the  writings,  powerful  but  strained,  of 
Seneca  among  the  Romans,  of  which  one  said  that  Sen- 
eca's sentences  were  "  sand  without  lime."  Unaffected 
ease  is  a  far  higher  attainment  in  style  than  labored  at- 
tempts at  strength.  The  style  of  the  Spectator  is  utterly 
unconscious  of  itself,  as  is  the  wave  curving  on  the  beach, 
which  it  animates  with  movement  and  song.  Luke  xvii., 
27,  28;  Ezek.  xxxiii.,  15,  16;  S.,  "  Cymbeline,"  act  v., 
scene  v.,  Posthumius's  1st  speech,  lines  4,  5. 

Lamartine  enriches  us  with  an  example  of  the  judi- 
cious use  of  asyndeton  in  the  close  of  the  following  sen- 
tence from  his  delightful  "  Travels  in  the  East."  He 
speaks  of  the  All-pervading: 

"  This  great  Divine  Figure,  which  man  from  his  infancy  is 
ever  striving  to  reach  and  to  imprison  in  his  structures  built 
by  hands,  forever  enlarges  and  spreads  forth;  it  outsteps  the 
narrow  limits  of  temples,  and  leaves  the  altars  to  crumble  into 
dust;  and  calls  man  to  seek  for  it  where  alone  it  resides — in 
thought,  in  intelligence,  in  virtue,  in  nature,  in  infinity." 

Let  us  now  gaze  on  a  Dutch  landscape,  painted  to  the 
life  by  the  masterly  pen  of  the  justly  famous  American, 
John  Lothrop  Motley,  whose  historical  works  deserve  a 


Figures  of  Syntax.  1 1 9 

place  in  the  highest  rank.  We  quote  his  description  of 
Zutphen  (South  Fen),  in  his  "  History  of  the  United 
Netherlands:" 

"  Long  rows  of  poplars  marking  the  straight  highways,  clumps 
of  pollard  willows  scattered  around  the  little  meres;  snug  farm- 
houses, with  kitchen-gardens  and  brilliant  flower-patches,  dot- 
ting the  level  plain;  verdant  pastures  sweeping  off  into  seem- 
ingly infinite  distance,  where  the  innumerable  cattle  seemed 
to  swarm  like  insects;  windmills  swinging  their  arms  in  all  di- 
rections, like  protective  giants,  to  save  the  country  from  inun- 
dation ;  the  lagging  sail  of  market-boats  shining  through  rows 

;ij  of  orchard  trees — all  gave  to  the  environs  of  Zutphen  a  tran- 

!j  quil  and  domestic  charm." 

The  seemingly  infinite  sweep  like  that  of  the  sea,  which 
is  not  more  level  than  those  plains  are,  will  be  recognized 
by  the  traveler  in  Holland  as  very  characteristic. 

The  speech  of  Henry  IV.  of  France  to  his  troops  be- 
fore a  battle  is  a  spirited  instance  of  the  leaving  out  of 
all  conjunctions,  and  of  the  circumstances  and  feelings 
that  prompt  men  to  do  so : 

"I  am  your  king.  You  are  Frenchmen.  Behold  the  en- 
emy." 

T^ake  another  example  from  Mrs.  Osgood ;  the  young 
men  will  see  before  them — somebody,  the  unparalleled : 

"  Her  laugh  is  like  a  fairy's  laugh, 

So  musical,  so  sweet; 
Her  foot  is  like  a  fairy's  foot, 

So  dainty  and  so  fleet; 
Her  smile  is  fitful  sunshine, 

Her  hand  is  dimpled  snow; 
Her  lip  a  very  rosebud 

In  sweetness  and  in  glow." 

What  a  number  of  the  grandest  aims  to  aim  at  does 
Mrs.  Jameson  present  to  you  in  the  following: 


1 20         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"To  trust  religiously,  to  hope  humbly,  to  desire  nobly,  to 
think  rationally,  to  will  resolutely,  to  work  earnestly — may  this 
be  mine  !" 

We  are  ardent  admirers  of  many  of  Dr.  Bushnell's 
works.  We  have  read  lately  his  volume  entitled  "  Chris- 
tian Culture,"  a  book  of  the  utmost  profundity,  truth, 
and  beauty.  It  is  far  the  ablest  book  on  the  subject  that 
we  ever  read — the  godly  upbringing  of  children.  Hear 
what  he  says  of  a  true  Christian  home,  and  take  note  of 
the  asyndeton : 

"  What  scene  of  family  dignity  is  more  to  be  admired  ?  The 
highest  splendors  of  wealth  and  show  have  but  a  feeble  glow- 
worm look  in  the  comparison — a  pale,  faint  glimmer  of  light, 
a  phosphorescent  halo,  enveloping  what  is  only  a  worm.  Even 
the  poor  laboring  man,  thanking  God  at  his  table  for  the  food 
he  earned  by  the  toil  of  yesterday ;  singing  still  each  morning  in 
his  family  hymn  of  the  glorious  rest  at  hand ;  moving  on  thith- 
erward with  his  children  by  single  day's  journeys  of  prayer 
and  praise ;  teaching  them,  even  as  the  eagles  do  their  young, 
to  spread  their  wings  with  him  and  rise — this  man,  I  say,  is  the 
prince  of  God  in  his  house ;  and  the  poor  garb  in  which  he 
kneels  outshines  the  robes  of  palaces.  Religion  leads  in  the 
day  as  the  dawn  leads  in  the  morning.  It  blends  a  heavenly- 
gratitude  with  the  joys  of  the  table ;  it  breathes  a  cheerful  sense 
of  God  into  all  the  works  and  tempers  of  the  house ;  it  softens 
the  pillow  for  rest  when  the  day  is  done.  Home  and  religion 
are  sacred  words — names  both  of  love  and  reverence :  home, 
because  it  is  the  seat  of  religion;  religion,  because  it  is  the 
sacred  element  of  home." 


Figures  of  Syntax.  121 


CHAPTER  IV. 
FIGURES   OF   SYNTAX. 

PART    SECOND. 

Polysyndeton. — Zeugma.  —  Syllepsis.  — Paradiastole.  — Ple- 
onasm. —  Me-ism.  —  Hypallage.  —  Hysteron-proteron,  or 
Putting  the  Cart  before  the  Horse. 

XXI.  Polysyndeton  is  our  next  figure,  or  Superfluity 
of  Ands.  All  birds  have  two  wings,  so  has  the  mind 
figures  in  contrasted  pairs.  Asyndeton  assures  us  of 
polysyndeton — a  proof  and  illustration,  running  through 
our  whole  wide  theme,  that  we  are  studying  the  habits 
of  a  creature  that  soars.  See  Luke  vii.,  38 ;  x.,  27 ;  xii., 
46,  58 ;  xv.,  22,  23.  Gen.  viii.,  22. 

In  the  following  beautiful  tradition  about  our  Master 
you  find  a  superfluity  of  "ands:" 

"  Jesus  arrived  one  evening  at  the  gates  of  a  certain  city, 
and  sent  his  disciples  on  to  prepare  a  frugal  supper ;  while  he 
himself,  intent  on  doing  good,  walked  weary  through  the  streets 
into  the  market-place. 

"  And  he  saw  at  the  corner  of  the  market  some  people  gath- 
ered together,  looking  at  an  object  on  the  ground;  and  he  drew 
near  to  see  what  it  might  be.  It  was  a  dead  dog,  with  a  halter 
around  its  neck,  by  which  he  appeared  to  have  been  dragged 
through  the  mire;  and  a  viler,  a  more  abject,  a  more  unclean 
thing  never  met  the  eyes  of  man. 

"  And  those  who  stood  by  looked  on  with  abhorrence. 

" '  Faugh  !'  said  one,  stopping  his  nose,  '  it  pollutes  the  air.' 
1  How  long/  said  another,  'shall  this  foul  beast  offend  our 
sight?'  'Look  at  his  torn  hide,'  said  a  third;  'one  could  not 


122          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

cut  even  a  shoe-tie  out  of  it.'  '  And  his  ears,'  said  a  fourth, '  all 
draggled  and  bleeding.'  'No  doubt,'  cried  a  fifth,  'he  hath 
been  hanged  for  thieving.' 

"  And  Jesus  heard  them,  and  looking  down  compassionately 
on  the  dead  creature,  he  said  :  '  Pearls  are  not  equal  to  the 
whiteness  of  his  teeth.' 

"And  the  people  turned  toward  him  with  amazement,  and  said 
among  themselves, '  Who  is  this  ?  This  must  be  Jesus  of  Naz- 
areth, for  only  he  could  find  something  to  pity  and  praise  even 
in  a  dead  dog.'  And,  being  ashamed,  they  bowed  their  heads 
before  him,  and  went  each  on  his  way.  Be  ours  that  gentle 
judging;  that  quickness,  that  tendency  to  detect  some  good  in 
even  the  vilest;  and  immeasurable  capabilities.  Turn  we  our 
severity  on  ourselves,  our  gentleness  on  others." 

By  keeping  the  mind  tarrying  on  each  circumstance ; 
by  the  frequent  recurrence  of  the  particle  of  addition 
"and,"  we  have  left  on  us  the  feeling  that  the  circum- 
stances must  indeed  be  numerous.  To  Nathaniel  Lee 
let  us  look  for  an  example,  quoting  from  one  of  the  best 
of  his  eleven  tragedies.  A  master  of  genuine  passion 
and  tenderness,  he  sometimes  degenerates  into  bombast. 
Death  is  his  theme.  His  tragedy  of  Lucius  Junius  Bru- 
tus is  open  before  us : 

"  Groans,  and  convulsions,  and  discolor'd  faces ; 
Friends  weeping  round  us;  plumes  and  obsequies; 
Make  it  a  dreadful  thing  to  die.     The  pomp  of  death 
Is  far  more  terrible  than  death  itself." 

This  gifted  man  had  to  be  kept  in  an  asylum  for  the 
insane  from  1684  to  1688;  and  his  death  was  occasioned 
by  injuries  received  in  a  drunken  night-frolic.  Mark  how 
shallow  his  sentiment  in  the  passage  just  quoted.  Not 
death's  circumstantials,  but  death's  essence — the  solemn 
close  of  our  probation ;  the  entrance  on  dawn  or  mid- 
night ;  the  reaping  as  we  know  we  must  have  sowed ; 
these  be  what  make  death  sublime  and  dread.  How 


Figures  of  Syntax.  123 

much  deeper  philosophy,  how  much  fitter  for  even  poesy, 
Paul's  plain  yet  profound  statement — 

"  The  sting  of  death  is  sin." 

What  digs  deepest,  strikes  out  the  deepest  founts  for  the 
Muses  to  drink  of. 

Many  instances  of  the  repetition  of  "  ands  "  occur  in 
Demosthenes — matchless  model  of  orators.  One  of  our 
main  objects  is  to  make  you  familiar  with  him — much 
spoken  of,  little  read,  never  worthily  translated.  The 
passages  we  shall  quote  from  him,  translated  by  us  for 
this  work,  will,  we  hope,  deepen  in  your  minds  the  con- 
viction that  he  merits  all  his  fame  as  one  of  God's  great- 
est miracles  of  eloquence ;  in  whom,  too,  eloquence  is 
ever  simple,  natural,  life-like,  thoroughly  unaffected ;  and 
a  great  lesson  for  all  future  orators,  especially  in  the  po- 
litical arena,  where  the  eloquence  is  sustained  in  its  power 
by  noble  virtues  breathing  through  it ;  such  as  forgetful- 
ness  of  himself,  disinterested  enthusiasm  for  his  country, 
for  independence,  for  the  master  axioms  that  are  the  food 
and  soul  of  private  and  public  worth — axioms  announced 
by  him,  ever  and  anon,  in  words  few  but  all  of  fire ;  and 
where,  with  the  undaunted  boldness  of  a  man  willing  to 
die  at  any  hour  a  martyr  for  truth,  liberty,  and  duty,  he 
denounces,  in  every  form  of  sarcasm,  detestation,  and  pro- 
found sorrow,  the  ruling  vices  of  that  great  Athenian 
people  whom  he  sought  to  convince  and  rescue,  and  in 
whose  hand  his  life  was.  He  as  bold  an  orator  as  Elijah 
a  prophet.  In  the  First  against  Philip,  near  the  close, 
we  meet  this  instance  of  many  "  ands:" 

"  These  things  let  us  thoroughly  know — that  the  man  is  our 
enemy,  and  has  spoiled  us  of  our  dominions,  and  for  a  length 
of  time  has  insulted  us,  and  that  all  things  whatever  which  at 
any  time  we  hoped  others  would  do  for  us  are  found  against 
us ;  and  that  all  the  things  which  remain  must  be  found  in  our 
own  very  selves ;  and  that  if  we  will  not  to  fight  him  there,  here 
it  is  likely  we  may  be  forced  to  fight  him." 


124          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

This  is  a  fair  sample  of  the  kind  of  words  Demosthenes 
uses.  You  will  find  no  dandyish  poetical  or  semi-poet- 
ical phraseology  in  him  ;  nor  one  speck  of  self-conceit  as 
tainted  the  eloquence  of  Cicero ;  nor  a  single  instance 
of  a  passage  foisted  in  for  the  mere  sake  of  ornament. 
He  uses  not  at  all  either  fuss  or  feathers.  He  puts  an 
immense  force  into  the  plainest,  shortest  words ;  as  in 
the  above  passage  into  "there"  and  "here."  Intent  he 
on  carrying  his  point ;  not  on  fine  ornaments,  of  which 
he  has  not  one.  Yet  the  ancients  said  of  him  truly 
'that  in  every  sentence  of  his  there  is  some  figure;  for 
burning  earnestness  rushes  into  figures  by  the  hundred. 

We  can  not  turn  from  Demosthenes  without  taking 
this  opportunity  of  urging  on  you  two  lessons — to  us 
they  seem  great — gathered  from  a  prolonged  study  of 
this  wondrous  man.  We  lay  before  you  the  concluding 
sentence  of  that  mighty  oration,  "  On  the  Crown :" 

"  O  all  ye  gods,  I  pray  to  you  all  in  one  prayer,  that  not  one 
of  you  may  favor  these  feelings  and  desires  so  hostile  to  Athens; 
but  O  do  ye  infuse — this  is  my  most  earnest  prayer — infuse 
even  into  these  traitors  to  their  country  a  better  mind  and  bet- 
ter sentiments;  yet,  if  it  be  certain  that  they  are  incorrigible, 
then  O  pursue  them,  man  by  man  of  them,  with  ruin  and  de- 
struction, by  sea  and  by  land;  and  on  the  rest  of  us  O  do  ye 
bestow  the  speediest  possible  deliverance  from  these  overhang- 
ing terrors,  and  grant  us  a  national  salvation  that  can  not  be 
shaken." 

First,  this  reflection  forces  itself  on  us — we  by  no  means 
go  in  search  of  it :  Many  can  not  endure  the  imprecatory 
—they  love  to  call  them  the  cursing — prayers  in  the 
Psalms  of  David ;  in  which,  though  they  are  for  the  most 
part  predictions,  the  Psalmist  perhaps  once  or  twice  in- 
vokes a  curse  on  sworn  oppressors  and  shedders  of  blood. 
Yet  all  the  best  educated  minds  for  centuries  have  laud- 
ed with  a  just  enthusiasm  this  oration  about  the  Crown ; 
and  not  least  the  close  of  it.  Justice  is  done  to  the  won- 


Figures  of  Syntax.  125 

drous  Greek ;  inexpressibly  less  than  justice  to  the  Bible. 
To  invoke  from  heaven  Heaven's  best  blessing,  even  a 
change  of  heart,  on  rancorous  persecutors  and  murderers 
of  women  and  children ;  and  then,  if  it  be  certain  that 
they  are  to  wax  fiercer  and  fiercer,  to  implore  God  to  re- 
move them  from  the  earth,  is  a  prayer  worthy  of  the 
noblest  and  most  merciful  soul  in  its  noblest  hour.  Da- 
vid's foes  were  immeasurably  worse  than  the  enemies 
of  Demosthenes.  It  is  easy  talking  for  us,  who  are  in 
safety ;  but  if  you  saw  a  fiend  in  human  shape  tossing 
infants  into  the  flames,  you  might  be  glad,  if  you  be- 
lieved— if  you  really  believed  that  the  Most  High  alone 
could  or  would  help  you — you  might  be  right  glad  to 
implore  him  to  interfere  to  give  the  human  fiend  a  right 
heart,  or,  if  not,  to  remove  him  from  the  earth. 

The  second  lesson  from  Demosthenes :  Some  imagine 
that  the  human  mind  can  reach  its  highest,  unaided  by 
any  use  of  or  any  reference  to  religious  truths.  Let  it 
be  known — not  half  widely  enough  is  it  known — that 
while  the  closing  sentence  of  this  greatest  oration  is 
what  we  have  quoted,  a  solemn  prayer,  not  a  little  Da- 
vidic  and  Puritanic  in  its  tone,  the  opening  sentence 
begins  in  these  words: 

"  First  of  all,  men  of  Athens,  to  all  the  Powers  of  heaven  do 
I  make  my  petition  !" 

This  double  fact  moves  us  deeply.  The  glorious  Greek 
began  and  closed  with  prayer  the  world's  greatest  ora- 
tion ;  and  ever  and  again  he  mingles  prayer  with  his 
burning  argument,  as  he  proceeds.  This  most  astound- 
ing and  decisive  example  convinces  us  more  and  more 
that  the  highest  flights  of  the  intellect  can  not,  in  any 
kind  of  literature,  be  attained,  if  unaided  by  the  re- 
ligious element ;  especially  if  unaided  by  this  thing — 
eager  prayer,  which  some  wither  and  annihilate  by  their 
scorn. 

A  third  very  remarkable  fact,  on  which,  hastening  on 


126          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

in  our  theme,  we  can  not  tarry,  are  those  extraordinary 
resemblances  that  burst  out  between  the  style  of  Paul 
in  its  depths,  and  the  style  of  Demosthenes.  Any  com- 
petent Greek  scholar,  following  out  this  hint  minutely, 
would  be  rewarded  by  valuable  discoveries.  You  see  in 
the  mighty  Athenian  the  word,  terror,  destruction,  sal- 
vation ;  and  the  doctrine  of  the  inhabitation  of  man  by 
God.  Would  that  Paul  were  thoroughly  translated.  The 
Church  allows  the  sword  of  this  foremost  fighter  to  have 
some  rust  on  its  steel. 

Without  earnest  piety  and  stern  virtue  the  Athenian 
whom  we  honor  so  deeply  could  never  have  been  the 
miracle  of  eloquence  he  was.  Simple  in  his  style  as  the 
naked  heavens ;  free  from  all  affectation  and  vanity ;  dis- 
interested, patriotic,  panting  for  his  country's  liberty  and 
greatness ;  as  undaunted  as  Elijah  himself,  so  as  contin- 
ually to  remind  us  of  Elijah  and  of  Paul.  Two  charges 
against  him :  He  fled  in  battle ;  but  only  in  a  universal 
rout,  and  in  circumstances  such  that  his  countrymen, 
though  smarting  under  defeat,  never  blamed  him  for  re- 
treating with  the  rest.  He  was  accused  of  taking  a  bribe ; 
wonderful  to  say,  in  such  a  day  of  fiery  faction,  on  only 
one  solitary  occasion.  His  enemies  never  proved  it;  the 
closest  examination  discredits  it.  Says  Grote,  in  his  mas- 
terly "  History  of  Greece :" 

"  Reviewing  the  facts  known  to  us,  we  find  them  all  tending 
to  refute  the  charge  against  Demosthenes." 

Therefore  let  him,  in  this  republic  blushing  for  its  polit- 
ical men,  be  one  chief  model. 

In  the  following  account  of  Solferino,  written  by  Rus- 
sell of  the  London  Times,  are  fine  examples  of  lack  of 
"ands"  and  of  many  "  ands."  He  writes  of  June  24, 
1859: 

"  Since  the  three  days  of  Leipsic,  now  six-and-forty  years  ago, 
so  great  a  battle  has  never  been  fought  in  Europe  as  that  which 
only  seventy  hours  since  cumbered  the  plains  of  Lombardy  with 


Figures  of  Syntax.  127 

dead.  Imagination  toils  in  vain  to  realize  the  story  of  more 
than  three  hundred  thousand  men  engaged  in  mortal  conflict, 
over  an  area  the  front  of  which  extended  twelve  miles.  The 
common  incidents  of  a  battle — the  plunging  cannon-shot,  the  de- 
vouring grape,  the  advance  of  long-drawn  columns,  the  resist- 
ance of  dense  masses,  the  furious  charges  of  cavalry,  the  sud- 
den deploy  into  lines  lengthening  in  long  vistas  and  meeting 
in  stern  and  furious  collision,  bayonet  to  bayonet — are  all,  in 
such  a  mighty  battle  as  this,  multiplied  to  indistinctness.  After 
sixteen  hours  of  thundering  sounds,  and  dense  smoke,  and  shrill 
death-shrieks,  and  the  rush  of  squadrons  shaking  the  earth,  and 
the  measured  tramp  of  many  thousands  marching  to  death,  and 
the  shouts  of  multitudes  in  wild  excitement,  we  are  told  that, 
upon  one  side  alone,  thirty-five  thousand  killed  and  wounded 
are  stretched  on  the  plain." 

Polysyndeton  is  a  figure  not  seldom  abused,  as  by  Dr. 
Chalmers  ;  who  often  used  it,  however,  with  great  effect ; 
and  in  that  invaluable  work,  Kent's  "  Commentaries  on 
American  Law,"  as  in  vol.  i.,  p.  391  : 

"I  shall  consider  the  jurisdiction  of  the  District  Court  as  a 
Court  of  Common  Law,  and  clothed  also  with  special  powers." 

The  "  and  "  had  better  be  away. 

XXII.  Zeugma,  Junction,  is  a  figure  not  frequently 
occurring ;  where  the  same  verb  is  related  to  two  clauses 
that  strictly  would  require  two  different  verbs,  as  in 
Homer: 

"Thetis  leaped  down  into  the  sea;  but  Zeus,  to  his  halls." 

Or  as  when  Curran,  of  an  erring  lady,  cried : 
"  Send  her  back  to  her  husband,  to  her  children — to  herself." 

This  figure  occurs  when  two  nouns  or  two  infinitives 
are  united  to  a  verb,  which  verb  is  applicable  to  only  one 
of  them  ;  as  when  Sallust  describes  a  ruler  as — 

"  Waging  peace  and  war." 


128          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Under  this  figure  may  be  ranged,  too,  the  employment 
of  a  noun,  or  any  other  word  with  two  references,  as  in 
the  expression : 

"A  country  crowded  with  rebels  and  with  anarchy." 

It  shows  how  multitudinous  are  the  forms  which  are 
assumed  by  language — that  miracle  of  organs  and  of 
thought,  whereto  no  creature  but  man  makes  any  ap- 
proach— to  mark  the  distinction  of  zeugma,  pun,  and 
double  meaning.  In  zeugma  one  of  the  applications  of 
the  verb  is  improper;  in  pun  the  words  are  different, 
though  similar  in  sound ;  in  double  meaning  the  words 
are  used  in  two  senses,  both  of  which  are  proper. 

XXIII.  Syllepsis  is  that  figure  in  which  a  word  is  con- 
strued syntactically  according  to  its  meaning  or  import, 
not  according  to  its  mere  narrow  grammatical  charac- 
teristics.    It  is  also  termed  synesis,  or  synthesis :  "  The 
adapting  of  the  construction  to  the  sense   of  a  word, 
rather  than  to  its  gender  or  number,"  as  when  the  Saviour 
is  spoken  of  as  "  the  Rock  on  whom  we  trust,"  instead  of 
"  in  which."    Similarly, we  heard  a  clergyman  say  lately: 

"Let  us  recognize  every  where  the  Hand  who  sways  the 
universe." 

On  his  mind,  perhaps,  unconsciously  lay  the  influence 
of  Dr.  Philip  Doddridge's  verse : 

"While  Providence  supports, 
Let  saints  securely  dwell ; 
That  Hand  which  bears  all  Nature  up, 
Shall  guide  his  children  well." 

XXIV.  Paradiastole,  or  Neithers  and  Nors.     Multi- 
plicity of  neithers  and  nors,  when  invested  with  a  clas- 
sical title,  goes  by  the  alarming  name  of  Paradiastole : 
a  putting  together  disjunctively — a  putting  together  so 
as  to  keep  asunder ;  as  when  a  bar  of  iron  has  a  globe 
fixed  at  either  end  of  the  bar.     The  two  globes  are  then 
at  once  joined  and  separated,  and  we  perceive  that  a  dis- 


Figures  of  Syntax.  129 

junctive  conjunction  is  the  most  possible  thing  in  the 
world.  Thus  speaks  Cicero  against  Verres : 

•  "  Shall  neither  the  cries  of  innocence  expiring  in  agony;  nor 
the  tears  of  pitying  spectators;  nor  the  majesty  of  the  Roman 
commonwealth ;  nor  the  fears  of  the  justice  of  his  country, 
restrain  the  licentious  cruelty  of  a  monster  who,  in  the  confi- 
dence of  his  riches,  strikes  at  the  root  of  liberty,  and  sets  man- 
kind at  defiance  ?" 

See  Luke  xviii.,  29. 

XXV.  Pleonasm,  or  Superfluity,  is  our  next  figure,  the 
using  of  more  words  than  would  convey  the  idea.  Thus 
says  Dr.  Stephen  Olin : 

"  It  is  a  still  and  dark  domain,  that  of  death." 

This  is  usually  one  of  the  grossest  vices  of  style.  The 
plays  of  James  Thomson  were  very  inferior  to  his  "  Sea- 
sons " — a  poem  that  every  well-read  person  has  perused. 
In  one  of  his  tragedies,  the  heroine  is  thus  addressed  by 
her  lover,  in  sonorous  blank  verse  : 

"  O  Sophonisba  !     Sophonisba,  O  !" 
A  wag  in  the  gallery  bawled  out — 

"  O  Jamie  Thomson  !    Jamie  Thomson,  O  !" 

The  consequence  was,  the  tragedy  was  laughed  off  the 
stage. 

A  celebrated  hymn  by  Addison  opens  by  a  weak  ple- 
onasm : 

"  The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky." 

It  needs  an  astronomy  very  keen-eyed  to  see  any  differ- 
ence between  these  two  things. 

Yet  so  greatly  discrepant  is  a  skillful  and  an  unskillful  , 
use  of  language  that,  in  a  dextrous  hand,  this  very  figure 
is  capable  of  producing  an  exquisite  effect.    In  the  more 
modern  edition  of  the  renowned  ballad  of"  Chevy  Chace," 
one  brave  knight  is  thus  spoken  of: 

I 


130    "      Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  There,  too,  the  gallant  Widrington — 

He  was  in  doleful  dumps ; 
For  when  his  legs  were  smitten  off, 
He  fought  upon  his  stumps." 

But  how  noble  and  simple  a  picture  is  the  original, 
given  in  that  valuable  collection,  "  Percy's  Reliques," 
which  by  all  means  read : 

"  For  Witheryngton  my  harte  was  wo, 

That  ever  he  slayne  shulde  be; 
For  when  both  his  legs  were  hewyne  in  to, 
He  knyled  and  fought  on  hys  kne." 

Mary  Howitt  favors  us  with  an  example  of  how  an 
elegant  pleonasm  can  be  made : 

"  The  Spring,  she  is  a  blessed  thing, 
She  is  the  mother  of  the  flowers." 

In  a  well-known  piece  of  Thomas  Hood,  the  lamen- 
tation of  a  certain  little  husband  domineered  over  by  a 
large  wife,  pleonasm  can  be  detected  in  the  second  line : 

"  And  when  I  speak,  my  voice  is  weak ; 

But  hers,  she  makes  a  gong  of  it : 
For  I  am  small  and  she  is  tall, 

And  that's  the  short  and  long  of  it." 

An  epic  in  prose  we  introduce  to  you,  one  of  the  most 
impressive  works  that  the  human  mind  has  produced — 
Carlyle's  "  French  Revolution  :" 

"For  kings  and  beggars,  for  the  justly  doomed  and  the  un- 
justly, it  is  a  hard  thing  to  die.  Pity  them  all.  Thy  utmost 
pity,  with  all  aids  and  appliances,  and  throne  and  scaffold  con- 
trast, how  far  short  is  it  of '  the  thing  pitied.'  " 

Read  and  ponder  Carlyle  by  all  means ;  but  by  no  means 
imitate  him.  His  "  Past  and  Present"  is  a  very  noble 
book — every  book  he  has  written  is  noble;  abandon 


Figures  of  Syntax.  131 

your  soul  to  it ;   but  make  not  yourself  ridiculous  by 
mimicking  his  style.    . 

The  orator  may  rivet  his  argument  by  a  judicious  use 
of  this  figure ;  for  it  employs  the  style  of  passion,  which 
loves  to  dwell  on  and  reiterate  its  theme.  Thus  Daniel 
Webster,  exhorting  his  countrymen  to  preserve  the 
Union,  shouted : 

"  The  blood  of  our  fathers,  let  it  not  have  been  shed  in  vain ; 
the  great  hope  of  posterity,  let  it  not  be  blasted." 

And  as  the  uneducated  turn  over  and  over  again  the 
same  idea,  so  we  often  meet  with  pleonasm  in  the  rudest 
form  of  the  ballad  ;  as  thus,  in  a  strain  beyond  the  reach 
of  the  sublime : 

"Come  all  ye  brave  Kentuckians, 

I'd  have  ye  for  to  know, 
That  we  against  the  enemy 
Are  going  for  to  go." 

A  slight  flavor  of  pleonasm  strengthens  the  humorous; 
as  in  Saxe's  merry  little  versicles  "  On  the  Rail."  How 
dancingly  the  measure  goes  !  How  the  sparks  are  flying 
from  the  engine ! 

"  Ancient  maiden  lady, 

She  nervously  remarks 
That  there  must  be  danger 

'Mong  so  many  sparks. 
Roguish-looking  fellow, 

Whispers  to  a  stranger 
That  in  his  opinion 

She  is  out  of  danger." 

You  can  scarcely  have  failed  to  notice  a  certain  ple- 
onastic use  of  "  it,"  which  may  have  a  perceptible  charm  ; 
as  thus  by  Mrs.  Browning.  Study  her  "  Aurora  Leigh." 

"The  world  goes  riding  it  fair  and  grand, 
While  the  truth  is  bought  and  sold." 


132  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Burns's  ballad,  "  Duncan  Grey,"  narrates  the  ups  and 
downs  of  a  courtship.  Ailsa  Craig,  mentioned  in  it,  is  a 
noted  rock  that  shoots  up  in  the  entrance  of  the  Firth 
of  Clyde.  At  first  Meg  was  as  deaf  to  his  plaint  as  Ailsa 
Craig.  Then  he  pretended  to  be  love-proof;  whereupon 
Meg  gives  way: 

"  How  it  comes  let  doctors  tell, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't ! 
Meg  grew  sick  as  he  grew  well, 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't ! 
Something  in  her  bosom  rings, 
For  relief  a  sigh  she  brings, 
And  oh  her  e'en — they  spak  sic  things — 

Ha,  ha,  the  wooin'  o't !" 

How  charming,  too,  this  by  Dennis  Florence  Mac- 
Carthy : 

"Dance  light,  for  my  heart  it  lies  under  your  feet, love." 

There  is  another  form  of  pleonasm,  indefensible,  though 
common  —  the  oath.  Sydney  Smith  exposed  well  the 
silliness  of  this  would-be-smart  practice.  In  a  stage- 
coach he  was  annoyed  by  a  youth  who  dealt  largely  in 
these  blasphemies.  After  bearing  with  this  for  a  while, 
the  wit  asked  the  company's  permission  to  tell  them  a 
story: 

"  Once  on  a  time,"  said  he,  "  there  was  a  king  (boots,  sugar- 
tongs,  and  tinder-boxes !),  who,  at  a  grand  ball  (boots,  sugar- 
tongs,  and  tinder-boxes !),  picked  up  the  Countess  of  Shrews- 
bury's garter  (boots,  sugar-tongs,  and  tinder-boxes),  and  said, 
'  Honi  soit  qui  mal  y  pense'  (boots,  sugar-tongs,  and  tinder- 
•boxes)." — "  Rather  old  that  story,"  said  the  youth,  "  but  what 
*  *  *  have  boots,  sugar-tongs,  or  tinder-boxes  to  do  with  it  ?" — 
"  I  will  tell  you,  my  young  friend,"  replied  Sydney,  "  when  you 
tell  me  what  your  oaths  have  to  do  with  your  conversation.  In 
the  mean  time,  allow  me  to  say  that  that  is  my  style  of  swearing." 


Figures  of  Syntax.  133 

XXVI.  Me -ism.      Happy  linguistic  effects  may  be 
produced  by  that  special  form  of  pleonasm  which  sup- 
plies "  me  "  to  verbs  usually  not  followed  by  "  me,"  as  in 
Sir  John  Falstaff's  encomium  on  sack : 

"  A  good  sherris  sack  hath  a  twofold  operation  in  it.  It  as- 
cends me  into  the  brain ;  dries  me  there  all  the  foolish,  dull, 
crudy  vapors  which  environ  it;  and  then  the  vital  commoners 
muster  me  all  to  their  captain  the  heart." 

Lear,  act  ii.,  scene  iv.,  Lear's  2Qth  speech,  lines  6-9. 

XXVII.  Hypallage,  an  interchange  of  construction, 
is   seen   in   Shakespeare   when  Cassius   says   of  Julius 
Caesar — 

"  His  coward  lips  did  from  their  color  fly ;" 

instead  of  "  the  color  did  fly  from  his  coward  lips."  From 
the  long  pedantic  Greek  names  which  cumber  our  sub- 
ject we  are  in  this  instance  rescued  by  the  celebrated 
"  Tristram  Shandy,"  in  the  shape  of  an  out-and-out  Sax- 
on definition : 

"'You  can  scarce,'  said  he,  'combine  two  ideas  together 
upon  it,  Brother  Toby,  without  an  hypallage.' — 'What's  that?' 
cried  my  Uncle  Toby. — '  The  cart  before  the  horse,'  said  my 
father." 

It  is  high  time  it  was  called  no  longer  hysteron-proteron, 
putting  the  first  last ;  as  in  Virgil,  who  for  once  was  au- 
thor of  an  Irish  bull: 

'•  Let  us  die,  and  rush  into  the  heart  of  the  fight." 

The  hypallage  ascribed  to  Cicero  was  plainly  an  inten- 
tional one — a  good-humored  jest  on  the  small  stature  of 
his  son-in-law,  who  was  strutting  about  with  a  long  sword 
stuck  to  his  side.  Cried  the  orator : 

"Who  is  it  that  has  tied  my  son  to  that  sword?" 

In  the  37th  Ode  of  Horace's  First  Book,  he  says  of 
Cleopatra  that — 

"The  queen  was  preparing  frenzied  ruins  for  the  Roman 
Capitol." 


1 34          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

So  Caesar  speaks  of  Lake  Leman  flowing  into  the 
Rhone. 

In  Virgil's  3d  Georgic,  line  251,  he  says — 

"If  but  the  smell  has  brought  the  well-known  breezes;" 

instead  of,  "  If  but  the  breezes  have  brought  the  well- 
known  smell."  Again,  he  tells  us  of  an  abundance  of 
large  milk — iii.,  308 ;  and  of  a  snow-white  gift  of  wool— 
iii.,  391. 

But  hypallage  arises  generally  from  confusion  of  mind, 
rather  than  from  seeking  literary  effects,  as  when  a  Car- 
melite friar  mentioned  in  a  sermon  what  a  wise  Prov- 
idence it  was  that  so  often  made  a  river  run  through  a 
large  town ;  or  as  when,  on  its  being  urged  as  an  objec- 
tion to  Homer  that  he  made  Vulcan  take  nine  whole 
days  to  fall  from  heaven  to  earth,  the  defender  of  Homer 
replied  that  it  was  according  to  nature  that  Vulcan,  be- 
ing feme,  could  not  fall  so  fast  as  another.  A  lofty  place, 
too,  belongs  to  the  sagacious  remark  of  the  Lowland  gar- 
dener in  Scotland, who  treated  the  potency  of  the  weath- 
er-glass with  the  utmost  contempt : 

"  'Deed,  sir,  I  never  saw  the  glass  hae  muckle  effec'  on  the 
weather  in  these  pairts." 

In  closing  this  chapter  a  great  truth  let  us  urge  upon 
you :  the  study  of  words  is  admirably  fitted  to  lead  to 
the  discovery  of  the  most  important  moral  and  religious 
truths.  Take  a  fine  instance  from  "  Outlines  of  Theol- 
ogy"— -compiled  from  the  writings  of  Alexander  Vinet, 
a  great  Swiss  divine : 

"  Remorse — marvelous  word  !  It  is  fortunate  that  our  fathers 
should  have  invented  it,  for  it  is  by  no  means  sure  that  we 
should  find  it  now.  Remorse  !  The  repeated  morsure,  or  biting 
or  gnawing;  perpetual,  incessant,  again  and  again,  of  the  out- 
raged law;  its  anticipated  vengeance;  a  wound  always  open, 
or  rather  always  opening;  a  cruel  tooth,  which  does  not  remain 
where  it  first  fastened,  but  at  its  pleasure  leaves  the  gash  for  a 


Figures  of  Syntax.  135 

while,  to  gnaw  into  it  again;  so  that  in  every  sense  and  in  all 
directions  it  may  bite  and  bite  again  into  the  heart  of  the  crim- 
inal. Do  not  believe  the  indifferent  or  lofty  air  some  persons 
put  on ;  they  disguise  from  you  the  terrors  which  perhaps  their 
death-bed  will  too  plainly  reveal ;  but  even  supposing  they  have 
succeeded  in  freeing  themselves  from  the  fears  felt  by  the  ma- 
jority, still  they  have  had  to  free  themselves.  And  how  have 
they  done  this  ?  By  avoiding  the  thought  of  them.  They  are, 
you  imagine,  not  alarmed  at  what  terrifies  you;  but  they  are 
afraid  of  being  afraid,  which  is  much  the  same  thing;  and  the 
very  word — eternity — sounds  like  thunder  in  their  ears." 

Having  now  completed  our  discussion  of  Figures  of 
Spelling  and  Figures  of  Syntax,  it  is  the  proper  place  to 
insert  the  true  historic  view  of  our  English  speech — the 
view  which  is  now  triumphant  among  scholars.  Once 
or  twice  in  the  above  pages  we  have  not  hesitated  to 
talk  of  the  Saxon  or  Anglo-Saxon  tongue  ;  we  have  even 
called  the  English  our  mother  tongue,  and  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  our  grandmother  tongue ;  but,  in  strict  accuracy, 
these  two,  English  and  Anglo-Saxon,  are  one  language — 
essentially  one ;  nay,  before  the  Saxon  pirates  had  left 
the  shores  of  the  Baltic,  and  when  as  yet  there  was  no 
England,  still  there  was  English.  As  Sir  F.  Palgrave  ex- 
presses it,  the  terms  Anglo-Saxon  and  Semi-Saxon  con- 
vey (at  least,  if  we  are  not  greatly  on  our  guard)  "  a  most 
false  idea  of  our  civil  history.  They  disguise  the  con- 
tinuity of  affairs,  and  substitute  the  appearance  of  a  new 
formation  (of  a  language)  in  the  place  of  a  progress- 
ive evolution  " — of  what  is  essentially  one  and  the  same 
language.  Accordingly,  King  Alfred  has  these  decisive 
words : 

"  Aelfred  Kyning  waes  wealh  stod  thisse  bee,  and  hie  of 
boclaedene  on'Englisc  wende." 

— "  Alfred,  King,  was  commentator  of  this  book,  and  it 
from  book-language  into  English  turned."  Besides,  our 
weary  plodding  in  Gower  has  been  repaid  by  our  obtain- 


136          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

ing  for  ourselves  the  sweeping  conviction  that  as  early 
as  1300  English  was  in  full  currency,  and  could  not  have 
sprung  into  recent  birth.  No ;  you  will  find  English  in 
the  great  epic  lay  of  Beowulf,  uttered  ere  the  Angles  had 
left  Schleswig  on  the  Baltic ;  in  Caedmon,  inspired  cow- 
herd and  monk  of  Whitby,  who  died  about  680,  and  gave 
Milton,  it  is  likely,  a  hint  of  "  Paradise  Lost ;"  and  in  the 
"  Brunanburh  War  Song,"  descriptive  of  the  great  bat- 
tle at  Brunanburgh  in  937.  There  was  Old  English 
down  to  1154;  Middle  English  from  1154  to  about  1500, 
when  it  was  ridding  itself  of  its  inflections,  and  adopting 
words  from  many  quarters,  especially  from  the  French ; 
and  Modern  English,  from  about  1500  till  now.  Most 
glorious  and  very  ancient  speech,  wherein  to  this  hour 
we  hear  the  roar  of  the  northern  seas,  the  thunder  of  the 
polar  storms,  the  battle-cries  of  heroes,  whose  race,  spite 
of  Dane  and  Norman,  has  only  grown  nobler  under  even 
the  training  of  the  worst  catastrophes. 


Figures  of  Syntax.  137 


CHAPTER  V. 

FIGURES   OF   SYNTAX. 
PART    THIRD    AND    LAST. 

Enallage  or  Exchange. — Antemeria. — Antiptosis>  Hetero-. 
sis.  —  Metastasis.  —  Hyperbaton  or  Inversion. — A  ntis- 
trophe. 

WE  trust  that  by  this  time  you  have  fully  adopted 
the  opinion — no  other  enters  more  deeply  into  the  phi- 
losophy of  our  subject — that  figures  of  speech  are  not 
tawdry  things  called  into  existence  artificially  by  rhetors, 
but  beautiful  and  necessary  phenomena  produced  by 
Nature,  according  to  certain  fundamental  laws  of  men- 
tality, acting  on  language — that  next  to  miraculous  in- 
strument or  incarnation  of  thought,  and  which  is  God's 
open  proclamation  that  man  hath  the  divine  in  him,  and 
is  of  an  order  of  being  altogether  superior  to  the  brutes. 
The  laws  of  the  epic  poem,  for  instance,  came  from  Ho- 
mer, the  bard  and  man  of  feeling,  to  Aristotle,  the  rhetor, 
who  collected  and  analyzed  hundreds  of  years  after  the 
blind  old  "Maker;"  assuredly  they  did  not  pass  from 
Aristotle  to  Homer.  Figures  are  as  natural  to  the  mind 
as  breathing  to  the  lungs.  The  prismatic  colors  of  heav- 
en's rainbow  were  not  called  into  existence  by  Newton's 
analysis  of  the  sun-ray ;  these  colors  can  not  but  be 
painted  by  the  day-beam  on  the  rain-cloud  ;  and  so  rain- 
bows glistened  long  before  a  philosophy  was  construct- 
ed. In  like  manner  figures  have  existed  wherever  Fancy 
has  playfully  sported,  or  Passion  cataract-like  has  rushed ; 
the  Indian  shouts  them  in  his  forest ;  Bridget  screams 


138          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

them  from  the  kitchen,  as  when  she  cries :  "  Misthress, 
dear,  the  kittle's  boiling ;"  for  no  kettle  ever  boiled  or 
ever  will,  but  only  the  water  in  it. 

XXVIII.  Enallage  is  the  figure  we  proceed  with — of 
very  great  value ;  the  use  of  one  part  of  speech,  or  of 
one  modification  of  a  part  of  speech,  for  another.  We 
lay  before  you  twenty-six  varieties,  each  deserving  to 
rank  as  a  separate  figure.  Judge  sternly  for  yourself 
if  they  lead  you  not  deep,  and  with  a  Venus-like  hand, 
into  the  inmost  recesses  of  this  vast  forest  which  we  call 
language.  The  following  is  the  fullest  account  of  Enal- 
lage that  ever  has  appeared.  Gather  out  of  Scripture 
two  hundred  varieties — a  feast  of  strawberries  for  your 
own  private  eating ;  and  then  a  hundred  individual  cases 
of  each  sort. 

i.  Noun  for  adjective.  In  Henry  Taylor's  powerful 
tragedy, "  Philip  Van  Artevelde,"  are  these  lines: 

"  Forgiveness  may  be  spoken  with  the  tongue — 
Forgiveness  may  be  written  with  the  pen ; 
But  think  not  that  the  parchment — and  mouth-pardon 
Will  e'er  eject  old  hatreds  from  the  heart." 

Often  the  noun  used  like  "  mouth  "  in  the  above  is 
joined  to  the  noun  it  modifies  by  a  hyphen.  Thus  John 
Mardley  wrote : 

"  Thy  mercy-gates  are  open  wide 
To  them  that  mourn  their  sin." 

Francis  Turner  Palgrave  gives  us  this : 

"  Star  of  morn  and  even, 
Shine  on  us  from  heaven  • 
From  thy  glory-throne 
Hear  thy  very  own." 

So  Shakespeare  has  "  Carthage  -queen  "  for  Cartha- 
ginian queen.  Very  common  in  the  Hebrew,  as  "  sacri- 
fices of  righteousness  "  for  righteous  sacrifices. 


Figures  of  Syntax.  139 

In  the  following,  very  admirable,  from  Isaac  Williams, 
you  have  "seraph-sound"  and  "  shepherd-crowd:" 

"  In  the  depth  of  night  profound, 
There  breaks  a  seraph-sound 

Of  never-ending  morn — 

The  Lord  of  Glory  born, 
Within  a  holy  grot  on  this  our  sullen  ground. 

"  Now  with  that  shepherd-crowd, 
If  it  might  be  allowed, 

We  fain  would  enter  there ; 
With  awful  hastening  fear; 
And  kiss  that  cradle  chaste,  in  reverend  worship  bowed. 

44  Within  us,  Babe  divine, 
Be  born  and  make  us  thine; 
Be  born,  and  make  our  hearts  thy  cradle  and  thy  shrine." 

This  figure,  altogether,  is  so  elegant  and  so  racy  that 
it  is  in  the  very  frequent  use  of  it  that  many  of  the  com- 
ing improvements  of  English  will  be  found.  S.,  "  Rich- 
ard II.,  act  iv.,  scene  i.,  Richard's  3d  speech,  lines  7-9. 

2.  A- phrase  for  a  noun,  as  in  Burns — 

"But  Downa  do's  come  o'er  me  now, 
i  And  oh  I  find  it  sairly,  O." 

3.  The  use  or  misuse  of  the  nominative  for  the  object- 
ive.    In  a  story  told  us  by  Sydney  Smith,  we  have  a 
rough  case  of  it  in  "  I  "  for  "  me."     That  witty  divine, 
whose  works  are  such  a  feast  of  wit  and  wisdom,  went 
to  a  cumbrous  dinner-party  in  the  country.    Every  thing 

•  was  very  ostentatious ;  very  ill-managed ;  the  would-be- 
fine  dishes  ill-cooked ;  the  lady  of  the  house,  and  Betty 
the  cook,  and  the  overtasked  servants  were  in  a  perfect 
broil  and  pother.  In  the  solemn  pause  between  course 
No.  I  and  course  No.  2,  when  every  body  felt  awkward, 
suddenly  the  door  was  slammed  open,  and  in  rushed  the 

servant-boy  of  all  work,  exclaiming,  in  piteous  tones — 

• 
"  Meester,  meester  !  has  Betty  any  right  to  lather  I  ? " 


140          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

This  use  of  one  case  for  another  struts  about  in  the  lit- 
erary realm  by  no  less  a  name  than,  XXIX.,  Antiptosis. 
What  dignity  doth  a  Greek  word  of  four  syllables  give 
to  the  matter !  By  no  means  was  that  boy  beslapped 
aware  what  a  classical  antiptosian  way  of  speaking  was 
his.  So  we  are  inforrried  by  the  rhetors  that  XXX.,  An- 
temeria,  is  the  use  of  one  part  of  speech  for  another  ; 
while  the  use  of  one  form  of  a  noun,  pronoun,  or  verb  for 
another  is— XXXI.,  Heterosis! 

4.  Beautiful  examples  may  be  found  of  the  adverb  em- 
ployed as  a  noun,  as  when,  in  the  closing  words  of  that 
pure  and  sweet  poem,  Longfellow's  "  Hiawatha,"  Hia- 
watha is  described  as  setting  forth  on  his  journey— 

"  To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter." 

Or,  as  in  T.  S.  Arthur's  instructive  tale, "  What  can  Wom- 
an Do  ?"  in  the  beginning  of  Chapter  XXXIV.,  the  ex- 
pression occurs : 

"  The  old  love  that  won  and  warmed  his  heart  in  the  long- 
ago  was  in  her  eyes." 

In  Shakespeare  we  meet  with  this : 

"Bid  them  farewell,  Cordelia,  though  unkind; 
Thou  losest  here,  a  better  Where  to  find." 

5.  Not  deep  has  he  gone  in  the  English  tongue  who 
has  not  discovered  how  beautiful  an  enallage  is  the  use 
of  nouns  for  verbs ;  a  usage  springing  from  the  depths 
of  our  speech,  inasmuch  as  in  Saxon  almost  all  verbs 
are  derived  from  nouns ;  thus  bier  is  a  carriage  for  the 
dead  (bear) ;  bearan  is  to  carry.    Shakespeare  peculiarly, 
and  with  an  indescribable  beauty,  abounds  in  instances. 
Thus  Perdita  cries : 

"  I'll  queen  it  no  inch  farther, 
But  herd  my  ewes  and  weep." 

Belarius,  in  "  Cymbeline,"  fears  lest  they  learn  at 
court — 

"That  such  as  we  cave  in  the  rock." 


Figures  of  Syntax.  141 

By  the  very  frequent  use  of  nouns  for  verbs  our  lan- 
guage may  be  greatly  benefited.  By  prefixing  the  Saxon 
prefix  en  or  be,  this  may  be  riWh  more  extensively  ac- 
complished, as  if  we,  in  a  line  for  the  occasion,  were  to 
exclaim — 

O  Christ,  rise  on  us,  and  bed  awn  our  sky. 

The  prose  of  old  Fuller  is  very  valuable  from  his  bold 
use  of  striking  forms  of  enallage.  Thus  he  writes  : 

"  The  hyssop  doth  tree  it  in  Judea." 

Yet  we  find,  from  the  lips  of  Goold  Brown,  than  whom 
no  more  popular  writer  of  grammars  for  schools  prevails, 
the  following: 

"  This  figure  borders  closely  upon  solecism ;  and  for  the  sta- 
bility of  the  language  it  should  be  sparingly  indulged." 

He,  with  ease,  finds  other  grammarians  who  support 
him  in  putting  this  brand  on  enallage — a  fair  sample  of 
the  treatment  which  at  present  figures  receive.  Our  re- 
ply is  this:  Go  to  Shakespeare;  study  merely  this  fifth 
variety  of  enallage ;  collect  one  hundred  cases  of  this 
fifth  variety  alone — we  pledge  ourselves  that  no  collector 
but  will  be  astonished  and  enraptured  with  the  amount 
of  beauty,  in  thought  and  expression,  which  he  will  meet 
with.  All  our  best  writers  use  it  often ;  con  over  this 
choice  line  of  Henry  Vaughan,  referring  to  a  June  path- 
way: 

"  Crimson'd  with  flowers,  and  dark  with  leafy  shade." 

Alexander  Smith,  who  was  a  master  of  some  of  the 
most  hidden  beauties  of  our  not  as  yet  half-developed 
language,  and  which  will  never  be  done  justice  to  so  long 
as  the  present  run  of  school  grammars  hold  mastery  over 
the  young,  has  especially  many  instances  of  nouns  used 
as  verbs ;  and  Dr.  Dwight  speaks  of  a  village  "  Edened 
round ;"  while  Thomas  Adams,  the  old  preacher,  says  of 
a  benevolent  rich  man  that  he 

"  Furs  himself  warm  with  poor  men's  hearts." 


142          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

6.  A  powerful  effect  may  be  produced  by  using  a  prop- 
er noun  as  an  adjective,  as  when  the  eloquent  Ruskin, 
in  his  "  Modern  Painters  "- — a  work  for  every  one  to  buy 
— terms  the  idea  of  those  who  value  such  things  only^as 
minister  to  the  body's  wants — 

"A  Nebuchadnezzar  curse  that  sends  us  to  grass  like  oxen ; 
whereas  man's  use  and  function  is  to  be  the  witness  of  the 
glory  of  God ;  and  whatsoever  enables  us  to  fulfill  this  func- 
tion is,  in  the  pure  and  first  sense  of  the  word,  useful  to  us." 

See  P.  L.,  i.,  306. 

7.  The  employment  of  an  intransitive  verb  as  a  tran- 
sitive verb  we  find  in  Burns's  "  Tarn  O'Shanter,"  a  per- 
fect poem.     He  is  describing  a  youthful  witch : 

"Lang  after  kenned  on  Carrick  shore; 
For  mony  a  beast  to  dead  she  shot, 
And  perish'd  mony  a  bonnie  boat." 

[  P.  L.,  xii.,  487 — a  remarkable  instance. 

8.  Adjective  for  noun  we  find  in  Percival's  "Apostro- 
phe to  the  Sun:" 

"Thy  path  is  high  in  heaven;  we  can  not  gaze 
On  the  intense  of  light  that  girds  thy  car." 

S.,  "  Lear,"  act  iii.,  scene  vii.,  Gloster's  8th  speech,  line  10. 

9.  Adjectives  for  verbs.     Giles  Fletcher,  whose  poems 
richly  reward  perusal,  speaking  of  grief,  says : 

"  It  lanks  the  cheek,  and  pales  the  freshest  sight." 
From  Shakespeare  we  have  this : 

"This  day  will  gentle  his  condition." 

Greatly  admired  deserves  to  be  Campbell's  expression 
of  the  Normans  as  to  their  effect  on  our  Saxon  and  on 
our  Celtic  blood : 

"  They  high-mettled  the  blood  in  our  veins." 

10.  A  tenth  variety  is  to  compare,  by  er  and  est,  ad- 
jectives usually  compared  by  more  and  most ;  or  the  op- 
posite, the  comparison  by  more  and  most  of  adjectives 
that  usually  have  er  or  est  annexed.      Spenser,  in  that 


Figures  of  Syntax.  143 

0 

fine  poem,  the  "  Epithalamium,"  calls  his  bridal  heroine 
his  "  beautifulest  bride."  Mrs.  Browning,  in  her  lines  to 
the  "  Seraphim,"  uses  "  most  sweet :" 

"  I,  too,  may  haply  smile  another  day 
At  the  far  recollection  of  this  lay, 
When  God  may  call  me  in  your  midst  to  dwell, 
To  hear  your  most  sweet  music's  miracle." 

11.  The  plural  for  the  singular,  a  kind  of  hyperbole, 
abounds  in  the  original  Hebrew  of  the  Old  Testament. 
In  the  first  verse  of  Psalm  xxxii.,  which  in  our  version 
reads — 

"  Blessed  is  he  whose  transgression  is  forgiven," 

the  original,  vastly  more  energetic,  expresses  an  irresist- 
ible outburst  of  surprise,  gratitude,  happiness,  at  God's 
forgiveness  of  the  monstrous  congeries  of  sins  in  the 
matter  of  Uriah  the  Hittite — 

"  Blessednesses !    Transgression  forgiven !     Sin  covered !" 

12.  A  noun  for  an  adverb — the  opposite  of  No.  4.     In 
the  original  Greek  of  the  New  Testament,  where  our 
version  reads  of  Peter — 

"  He  went  out  and  wept  bitterly," 
the  real  expression  is — 

"  He  went  out  and  wept  bitterness." 

13.  An  adjective  for  an  adverb  is  common,  as  in  the 
last  line  of  the  subjoined,  the  well-known  opening  of  the 
"Vision  of  (concerning)  Piers  the  Plowman,"  an  opening 
much  admired  for  its  exquisite  naturalness.     The  study 
of  this  ancient  poem  would  make  you  familiar  with  many 
Old  English  usages  of  speech,  which  we  all  should  some- 
what labor  to  revive  (see  page  84) : 

"  In  a  summer  season, 
When  soft  was  the  sun, 
t  shaped  me  into  shrouds  (clothes), 
As  I  shep  (shepherd)  were; 


144          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

In  habit  as  an  hermit, 

Unholy  of  works, 

Went  wide  in  this  world, 

Wonders  to  hear. 

And  on  a  May  morwening, 

On  Malvern  hills, 

Me  befell  a  ferly  (marvel); 

Of  fairie,  methought. 

I  was  weary  for  wandered, 

And  went  me  to  rest, 

Under  a  broad  bank, 

By  a  bourne's  side; 

And  as  I  lay  and  leaned, 

And  looked  on  the  waters, 

I  slumber'd  into  a  sleeping, 

It  swayed  so  merry." 

How  wild  and  unkempt  the  woods  here — how  fresh, 
sweet,  untamed  were  the  breezes  of  that  long-ago  May 
—what  a  green  on  the  hills — what  music  of  poesy  in  the 
cadence  of  those  dear  waters,  that  "  swayed  so  merry!" 

14.  XXXII.,  Metastasises  the  change  of  the  tenses,  as 
when,  every  wh^errrCsesar's  "  Commentaries,"  the  pres- 
ent is  used  for'  the  past ;  and  thus  we  feel  carried  back 
to  the  occasion, -and  spears  shiver  once  more,  and  war- 
cars  gleam  by,  and  the  trumpet  sounds  the  charge,  as 
the  Rhone  or  the  Rhine  or  the  Arar  sweep  on.  How 
deep  a  source  in  the  heart  this  variety  has !  We  delight 
to  banish  the  monotony  of  our  common  life  by  being 
present  at  great  events ;  we  travel  great  distances  to 
gratify  this  longing.  Literature,  with  its  pleasant  witch- 
eries, gratifies  it  for  us,  without  asking  us  to  leave  our 
own  hearthstone ;  literature  is  the  fairy  carpet  that  bears 
us  whither  we  will. 

Let  our  friend  Sam  Slick  supply  us  with  a  metastasis, 
or  change  of  tense.  His  subject,  how  great  a  one — wid- 

dahs: 

• 

'    "Widows  are  the  very  mischief!     There's  nothing  like  'em. 


Figures  of  Syntax.  145 

If  they  make  up  their  minds  to  marry,  it's  done.  I  knew  one 
that  was  terribly  afraid  of  thunder  and  lightning,  and  every 
time  a  storm  came  on  she  runs  into  Mr.  Smith's  house  (Mr. 
Smith  was  a  widower),  and  clasps  her  little  hands,  and  flies 
around  like  a  hen  with  her  head  cut  off,  till  the  man  was  half 
distracted  for  fear  she  would  be  killed ;  and  the  consequence 
was,  she  was  Mrs.  John  Smith  before  three  thunder-storms  had 
rattled  over  her  head.  How  many  thunder-storms  they  had 
after  that,  I  don't  exactly  know." 

15.  The  use  of  I  for  He — in  the  report  of  speeches; 
that  is,  the  giving  a  speech  in  the  first  person  instead  of 
in  the  third  person.     Caesar  has  made  himself  the  undy- 
ing beacon  who  warns  us  never  to  give  an  account  of  a 
speech  in  the  third  person.    Without  reading  more  than 
the  first  book,  what  instances  of  obscurity  arise  in  the 
speeches  he  sets  before  us,  in  even  that  opening  book, 
when  the  mighty  founder  of  empire,  or  Divitiacus,  or 
Ariovistus,  discourses ;  whose  speeches  are  so  obscure, 
owing  to  the  historian  putting  them  always  in  the  third 
person.     What  liveliness  would  be  obtained  in  the  pul- 
pit by  occasionally  couching  a  speech  by  Death  or  Pomp 
or  Wealth  or  Sin  in  the  first  person !     Nay,  do  it  often, 
O  pastor ! 

1 6.  Another  form  of  enallage,  very  deft,  is  to  use  a 
noun  and  a  preposition,  for  an  adjective,  as  in  the  ex- 
pression "a  thing  of  joy  "for  "  a  joyous  thing."    Thus 
Chaucer  in  the  Book  of  the  "  Duchesse :" 

"Was  never  heard  so  sweet  a  steven  (sound), 
But  it  had  be  a  thing  of  Heven." 

We  now  find  out  where  the  exquisite  poet  Keats  had 
suggested  to  him  his  never-to-decay  household  words: 

"  A  thing  of  beauty  is  a  joy  forever." 

But  see  S.,  "  Cymbeline,"  act  v.,  scene  iv.,  line  47 ;  "  Lear," 
act  i.,  scene  iv.,  Lear's  4ist  speech,  line  10. 

17.  The  form  of  the  past  tense  is  used  for  the  past 

K 


146         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature* 

participle.  Let  the  grammarians,  who  would  margin  a 
living  lake  by  the  most  rigidly  straight  lines,  say  what 
they  choose,  yet  there  is  a  beauty  in  this ;  for  you  thus 
often  obtain  a  monosyllable  for  a  dissyllable,  which  in 
poetry  is  a  great  point.  It  is  common  with  Shakespeare, 
and  is  ever  a  charm  ;  as  thus,  "  broke  "  for  broken  : 

"Fellestfoes, 
Whose  passions  and  whose  plots  have  broke  their  sleep." 

"  Coriolanus,"  act  iv.,  scene  v.,  Aufidius's  6th  speech, 
lines  2,  8. 

1 8.  A  preposition  is  used  as  an  adjective.     "  Impossi- 
ble !"  says  one,  who  has  little  knowledge  of  the  free  ed- 
dyings  in  which  glorious  language  disports  itself.     Yet 
Shakespeare  thus  writes,  "  Coriolanus,"  act  iv.,  scene  v. : 

"  I  will  fight 

Against  my  canker'd  country,  with  the  spleen 
Of  all  the  under  fiends." 

19.  An  adverb  for  a  pronoun ;  as  "where"  for  which; 
thus  Shakespeare : 

"Where  against, 
My  grained  ash  a  hundred  times  hath  broke." 

20.  A  preposition  for  a  noun ;  as  in  Shakespeare  : 

"  Thou  long'st  for  me  to  see  thy  lord ;  thou  long'st, 
But  in  a  fainter  kind.     O  not  like  me, 
For  mine's  beyond  Beyond." 

21.  A  very  curious  variety  is  to  compare  a  verb  as  an 
adjective  is  compared.     Here,  too,  who  but  would  cry — 
Impossible  !     Yet  Shakespeare  says : 

"  Obey  you,  love  you,  and  most  honor  you." 

22.  A  verb  and  preposition  in  place  of  a  preposition ; 
thus  in  Shakespeare : 

"  For  that  I  am  some  twelve  or  fourteen  moonshines 
Lag  of  a  brother." 


Figures  of  Syntax.  147 

23.  A  verb  is  used  for  a  noun — contrast  to  No.  5  ;  as  in 
Shakespeare : 

"With  every  gale  and  vary  of  their  masters." 

24.  An  adjective  is  used  for  a  participle,  as  in  S. : 

"  Let  the  bloat  king  tempt  you." 

25.  Usages  similar  to  "methinks"  might  well  be  mul- 
tiplied.   From  James  Clarence  Mangan  we  cull  this  very 
fine  one : 

"  Medreams  I  feel  as  though  I 
Should  have  slight  regrets." 

This  is  slippery  ice,  on  which  few  have  courage  enough 
to  skate;  not  remembering  that  the  more  slippery  the 
ice  the  nobler  skating  it  makes. 
So  by  Dante  Gabriel  Rosetti : 

"  Here  seemed  she  scarce  had  been  a  day 
One  of  God's  choristers." 

26.  Instead  of  "  by,"  a  classical  archaic  touch  may  be 
imparted  through  using  "  of,"  as  by  old  John  Still : 

"  I  am  so  wrapt,  and  thoroughly  lapt 
Of  jolly  good  ale  and  old." 

Your  author  inflicts  on  you,  to  conclude,  an  instance 
of  No.  I,  in  Planet-soul : 

How  vast  is  He  who  makes  the  planets  roll; 
How  greater  far  who  built  thy  planet-soul ! 
Haste,  prove  thyself  an  orb  of  that  strange  kind 
That  waxeth  ever  larger  through  all  Aeons, 
From  asteroid  to  star ;  from  star  to  sun ; 
Pervaded  by  the  power  of  Godward  growth, 
Wherein  all  deathless  radiance  hath  abode, 
Thy  soul — epitome  and  hint  of  God. 

XXXIII.  Inversion,  Transposition,  or  Hyperbaton,  is 
the  arranging  of  words  in  an  inverted  order.   This  is  one 


148          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

of  the  most  important  capabilities  of  speech,  imparting  to 
Greek  and  Latin  much  of  their  sonorous  force  and  har- 
mony ;  much  of  their  power  to  keep  up  attention ;  for 
when  the  verb  is  put  at  the  end  of  the  sentence,  the 
hearer  has  nothing  for  it  but  to  listen  to  the  close,  else 
he  will  lose  the  meaning  of  the  whole.  In  English  po- 
etry this  figure  abounds  so  much  as  to  be  one  of  its  chief 
characteristics.  In  Milton's  prose  is  more  of  it  than  in 
any  other  great  prose  writer;  but  while  it  adds  to  the 
cathedral  grandeur  of  his  majestic  style,  still  his  sentences 
soon  tire,  much  inversion  long  kept  up  at  a  time  being 
contrary  {o  the  genius  of  English  prose.  But  in  poetry, 
English  is  capable  of  far  more  inversion  than  is  usually 
thought ;  as  by  James  Smith  : 

"  In  England  rivers  all  are  males, 

For  instance,  Father  Thames; 
Whoever  in  Columbia  sails 

Finds  them  mamselles  or  dames. 
Yes,  there  the  softer  sex  presides — 

Aquatic,  I  assure  you  j 
And  Mrs.  Sippy  rolls  her  tides 

Responsive  to  Miss  Souri." 

A  more  emphatic  example  take  from  Giles  Fletcher, 
a  finished  piece  of  writing,  on  the  remorse  of  Judas: 

"  For  him,  a  waking  blood-hound,  yelling  loud, 
That  in  his  bosom  long  had  sleeping  lain, 
A  guilty  Conscience,  barking  after  blood, 
Pursued  eagerly." 

Bulwer,  in  his  "  Rise  and  Fall  of  Athens,"  has  this : 

"  The  lonians  were  susceptible,  flexile,  more  characterized 
by  the  generosity  of  modern  knighthood  than  the  sternness 
of  ancient  heroism.  Them,  not  the  past,  but  the  future, 
charmed." 

Mark  the  powerful  effect  produced  by  Byron's  arrange- 
ment: 


Figures  of  Syntax.  149 

"  The  night-winds  sigh,  the  breakers  roar, 
And  shrieks  the  wild  seamew." 

Fanny  Fern  (Mrs.  Parton)  introduces  a  married  lady 
endeavoring  to  be  literary,  but  every  minute  interrupted 
by  inexorable  household  cares : 

"  Let  me  see — where  did  I  leave  off?  The  setting  sun,  with 
ray  resplendent,  was  gilding  ['  Mamma,  mamma — I  want  some 
bread  and  molasses,  mamma!']  of  Inverness  the  church  steeple, 
when  ['  Where's  my  Sunday  waistcoat — do  you  know  ?'] — when 
was  seen  approaching  a  horseman  ['  Mistress,  I'm  bothered  en- 
tirely. The  potatoes  are  all  out;  there's  ne'er  a  one  for  din- 
ner'], and  shouting, ' Liberty  or  death!'  ['I'm  the  butcher,  ma'am, 
and  I  wants  to  know  whether  you're  for  sausages  or  mutton- 
chops']."  At  which  crisis  the  harassed  lady  throws  down  her 
pen,  exclaiming, "  I  see  it's  in  vain  for  a  married  woman  to  try 
to  cultivate  her  intellect !" 

No  biography  in  the  world  is  more  intensely  interest- 
ing than  Boswell's  "  Life  of  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson" — one 
of  the  books  to  be  bought.  Peter  Pindar  puts  the  sub- 
joined into  Boswell's  lips — Johnson's  style  was  too  swell- 
ing and  inverted : 

"  We  said,  which  charmed  the  Doctor  much,  no  doubt, 
His  mind  was  like  of  elephant's  the  snout : 
That  could  pick  pins  up,  yet  possess'd  the  vigor 
For  trimming  well  the  jacket  of  a  tiger." 

From  beginning  to  end  of  "  Paradise  Lost "  inversions 
are  numerous,  the  opening  being  a  noted  example : 

"  Of  man's  first  disobedience  and  the  fruit 
Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 
Brought  death  into  the  world  and  all  our  woe, 
Sing,  heavenly  Muse." 

The  following  is  the  opening  sentence  of  a  famous 
book  in  defense  of  Episcopacy,  "  Hooker's  Ecclesias- 


150          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

tical  Polity."  Mark  the  air  of  grandeur  which  inversion 
gives: 

"  Though  for  no  other  cause,  yet  for  this,  that  posterity  may 
know  we  have  not  loosely  through  silence  permitted  things  to 
pass  away  as  in  a  dream,  there  shall  be  for  men's  information 
extant  this  much  concerning  the  present  state  of  the  Church 
of  God  established  among  us,  and  their  careful  endeavors  that 
would  uphold  the  same." 

The  grandeur  connected  with  inversion  is  strongly 
proved  by  the  fact  that  all  the  great  epics  open  with  it. 
Homer's  opening  line  is — 

"War-wrath  sing  thou,  O  Goddess, of  Peleidean  Achilles !" 

We  thus  place  it  before  you  in  the  only  way  in  which  it 
ought  to  be  given,  in  that  splendid  measure,  the  same 
as  his — hexameter  verse.  Virgil  begins  the  "^Eneid" 
thus: 

"Arms  and  the  Hero  I  sing,  who  first  from  the  shores  of  Ilium, 
Exiled,  fate-driven,  came  to  Italy  and  to  Lavinium." 

Tasso  commences  his  "Gerusalemme  Liberata"  —  a 
poem  of  no  great  power,  but  sweet  and  elegant — with 
these  two  lines,  which  we  render  thus : 

"  I  sing  the  arms  religious  and  the  man 
Who  the  great  sepulchre  set  free  of  Christ." 

The  "  Divina  Commedia,"  Dante's  stern,  sublime,  deep- 
ly meditative  epic,  opens  with  words  which  we  thus 
turn : 

"  In  the  midway  of  this  our  mortal  life 
I  found  me  in  a  gloomy  wood,  astray — 
Gone  from  the  path  direct." 

From  Worsley's  Homer's  "Odyssey" — a  translation 
which  is  a  fine  poem,  not  in  the  Homeric  measure,  but 


Figures  of  Syntax.  1 5 1 

in  the  Spenserian  stanza — we  select  the  parting  words 
to  the  island  nymph  Calypso,  of  Odysseus : 

"  To  whom  the  wise  Odysseus  answering  spake : 

O  nymph  Calypso,  much  revered,  cease  now 
From  anger ;  nor  be  wroth  for  my  wife's  sake. 

All  this  I  know,  and  do  myself  avow ; 

Well  may  Penelope,  in  form  and  brow 
And  stature,  seem  inferior  far  to  thee; 

For  she  is  mortal,  and  immortal  thou. 
Yet  even  thus,  'tis  very  dear  to  me 
My  long-desired  return  and  ancient  home  to  see." 

XXXIV.  Anastrophe  is  the  name  of  a  certain  very 
strong  Hyperbaton.  In  the  following,  Tennyson  uses 
the  descriptive  or  adjective  first,  the  possessive  second, 
the  noun  third ;  or  you  may  illustrate  "  a  strong  hyper- 
baton"  by  the  Latin  Saxa  per  et  scopulos  —  "Rocks 
through  and  cliffs:" 

"  Rose  a  nurse  of  ninety  years, 

Set  his  child  upon  his  knee; 
Like  summer  tempest  came  her  tears: 
*  Sweet,  my  child,  I  live  for  thee !' " 

At  this  point,  again,  as  we  did  with  ellipsis  and  enal- 
lage,  we  strongly  urge  you  to  draw  out  a  lengthy  table 
of  inversions,  as  found  specially  in  Milton — at  least  a 
hundred  from  him.  We  give  specimens  to  make  clear 
our  meaning. 

1.  Between  the  adverb  and  its  verb  a  noun  and  its  ad- 
jective intervenes,  as  by  Gray,  that  poet  of  such  classic 
finish  -. 

"Fain  would  I  pay  thee  with  eternity; 
But  ill  my  genius  answers  my  desires." 

2.  The  verb  is  put  before  its  nominative ;  a  form  often 
employed,  as  in  Scott's  graphic  poetical  novel  of  "  Mar- 
mion:" 

"  Burns  Marmion's  swarthy  cheek  like  fire." 


152          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

(3.  Not  only  the  adjective  is  after  its  noun,  but  one  or 
more  words  come  between.  In  Cowper's  "  Homer,"  more 
faithful  than  Pope's,  which,  however,  is  a  delightful  poem, 
Hector's  death  is  thus  depicted : 

"He  ceased;  and  death  involved  him  dark  around." 

4.  In  Hooker,  in  whose  grave  style  we  come  every  now 
and  then  on  touches  of  exquisite  music,  we  often  find  a 
Latinism,  according  to  which  the  participle  in  the  com- 

I  pound  tenses,  or  the  adjective,  precedes  the  nominative, 
as  "able  we  are  not  to  deny;"  "  dangerous  it  were;" 
"  brought  already  we  are."  Artificial  though  this  may  ap- 
pear, yet  there  are  impassioned  moods  of  oratory  in  which 
it  will  sound  on  the  ear  of  the  hearer  as  the  most  natural 
diction  the  speaker  can  use ;  just  as  there  are  strong  con- 
tortions of  wind  and  wave  and  cloud  natural  to  certain 
vehement  writhings  of  the  storm.  Is  it  always  that  the 
snow-wreaths  lie  smooth  in  the  gusty  nooks  of  the  hills? 
Knows  little  of  language  he  who  will  deny  that  words 
can  be  whirled  even  more  wildly  than  snow-flakes;  to 
which,  indeed,  in  the  old  epic  time,  Homer,  for  good  rea- 
sons, likened  them. 

5.  A  word  or  words  are  placed  between  "  to,"  the  sign 
of  the  infinitive,  and  its  verb ;  as  by  Byron — 

"To  slowly  trace  the  forest's  shady  scene." 

As  to  hyperbaton,  remember,  generally,  that  every  new 
mode  gives  you  another  way  of  making  your  sentence 
emphatic  or  musical.  And  so  we  read  of  Plato  experi- 
menting out  his  wondrous  style  by  arranging  a  sentence 
in  six  different  ways,  and  Ariosto  in  ten.  Nay,  on  the 
part  of  a  truly  great  writer  or  speaker,  the  music  that  is 
in  his  soul  will  spontaneously  invent  for  itself  arrange- 
ments of  wondrous  variety.  Yet  a  very  great  deal  can 
be  done  of  skillful  design,  working  in  accordance  with 
nature.  Hyperbaton  is  one  of  the  most  prominent  ways 


Figures  of  Syntax.  153 

in  which  euphony  and  force  are  to  be  obtained;  study 
this  figure  very  minutely  and  at  great  length. 

6.  The   objective  is  put  before  the  governing  verb 
with  fine  effect,  as  by  Wordsworth,  the  greatest  English 
meditative  poet : 

"Me  didst  thou  constitute  a  priest  of  thine." 

7.  Two  parts  of  a  sentence  grammatically  connected 
are  disjoined  by  a  clause  thrown  between.     Thus  can 
very  fine  effects  be  produced;  as  in  Queen  Catharine's 
reproaches  of  Wolsey  in  Shakespeare's  "  Henry  VIII.:" 

"  He  was  never, 
But  where  he  meant  to  ruin,  pitiful." 

8.  Beautifully,  the  preposition  is  put  first,  the  parti- 
ciple follows ;  as  by  Milton  : 

"  Into  what  pit  thou  seest, 
From  what  height  fallen." 

9.  The  thing  possessing,  with  its  preposition  "  of,"  is 
placed   before   the   thing    possessed ;    thus    in    Byron's 
"  Manfred :" 

"  Of  distant  sentinels  the  fitful  song 
Began  and  died  upon  the  gentle  wind." 

10.  The  preposition  is  put  after  the  noun  it  governs, 
as  by  Shakespeare : 

"  It  only  stands 
Our  lives  upon,  to  use  our  strongest  hands." 

Or  in  that  unsurpassable  "  Lament,"  written  by  Lady 
Ann  Bothwell: 

"  I  canna  chuse,  but  ever  will 
Be  luving  to  thy  faither  still; 
In  weil  or  wae  whare'er  he  gae, 
Mine  heart  can  ne'er  depairt  him  frae." 


154          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

ii.  The  possessive  adjective  is  put  by  Lady  Ann  after 
the  other  adjective,  which  usually  it  precedes: 

"  But  do  not,  do  not,  prettie  mine, 
To  faynings  false  thine  heart  incline." 

In  taking  leave  of  Figures  of  Syntax,  we  have  just 
found  ourselves  admirably  sustained  by  Profesor  Bascom 
in  our  grappling  with  those  who,  like  Macaulay,  main- 
tain that  poesy  is  dying  out,  and  with  others  of  more 
degraded  views,  that  Christianity  is  departing,  and  should 
depart : 

"  Many  are  ready  to  insist  that  the  passions  in  the  outset 
move  us  only  the  more  strongly  from  the  murky  intellectual 
medium  in  which  their  subjects  are  presented,  and  the  great 
predominance  of  sensible  over  intelligible  objects.  We  would 
rather  say  that  in  its  early  periods  emotion  is  more  rude  and 
demonstrative,  not  more  strong,  than  in  its  later  periods.  While 
the  movement  of  mind,  though  substantial,  is  yet  crude  and  in- 
complete, it  may  tend  to  render  both  poetry  and  oratory  some- 
what formal  and  barren,  to  restrict  them  to  its  own  didactic 
method;  but  when  culture  becomes  deep,  rich,  and  productive, 
its  emotional  products  will  be  more  profoundly  passionate  than 
those  of  any  previous  period;  more  just  and  symmetrical,  they 
will  also  be  more  thoroughly  vital.  Not  till  the  mind  has 
worked  its  way  through  the  periods  of  skepticism  and  destruc- 
tion into  those  of  belief  and  construction,  out  from  uncertainty 
and  doubt  into  hearty  faith  and  advocacy,  will  the  emotions 
claim  and  fulfill  their  highest  part  in  the  progress  of  man.  The 
stream  of  human  life  does  not  run  shallow  as  we  advance.  The 
most  profoundly  emotional  truths  committed  to  the  mind,  like 
morning  stars,  appear  late  above  its  horizon.  In  the  fullest 
discipline  of  the  human  mind,  therefore,  we  seem  to  return  to 
the  order  first  presented,  in  which  a  delicately,  broadly,  pro- 
foundly apprehensive  Intellect  stands  at  the  threshold  of  hu- 
man faculties." 

In  harmony  with  all  which,  our  fond  hope  is  that  the 
Christian  pulpit  is  on  the  eve  of  vindicating  its  potency 
more  than  ever  yet  it  has  done ;  is  to  aid  in  binding  the 


Figures  of  Syntax.  155 

nations  together;  is  to  be  the  chief  popularizer  of  sci- 
ence to  the  common  people ;  is  to  set  Christ  forth,  more 
than  ever,  as  the  grand  specific  for  time  and  for  eternity ; 
is  to  study  him  as  the  prime  model  of  oratory,  and  to 
point  to  him  as  the  pole-star  in  morals  and  in  religion. 

The  full  treatment  of  this  great  figure,  Inversion,  re- 
quires that  mention  be  made  of  the  Periodic  Sentence. 
Every  periodic  sentence  has  as  its  essence  the  suspension 
of  the  meaning  till  the  close  of  the  sentence : 

"  Ape-born,  not  God-born,  is  what  the  Atheists  say  of— man," 

is  our  example.  This  structure  excites  anticipation,  and 
keeps  up  curiosity  till  the  denouement.  The  key-word, 
"  man,"  is  at  the  end  of  the  sentence.  It  is  evident,  there- 
fore, that  the  periodic  structure  implies  inversion.  Be 
much  on  your  guard  against  making  such  sentences 
lengthy,  if  you  wish  to  avoid  tiring  your  readers  or  hear- 
ers. Hooker,  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  Dr.  Samuel  Johnson, 
De  Quincey,  are  periodic  writers  of  eminence.  The  early 
writers  tend  too  much  to  long  sentences.  Practice  the 
mixture  of  short  and  long;  and  also  Dean  Swift's  defini- 
tion: 

"  Proper  words  in  proper  places  is  the  true  definition  of  a 
style;" 

which,  if  it  be  so,  shows  us  how  important  must  inver- 
sion be ;  as  see  in  Archbishop  Whately's  example  of  the 
periodic  formation: 

"  One  of  the  most  celebrated  of  men,  for  wisdom  and  for 
prosperity,  was  Solomon." 


156         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 
PART    FIRST. 

Simile. 

WE  rejoice  that  the  most  important  division  of  our 
theme  is  at  last  before  us — Figures  of  Rhetoric.  Indig- 
nantly do  we  protest  against  the  common  definition  of 
a  rhetorical  figure:  "An  intentional  deviation  from  the 
ordinary  or  literal  application  of  words."  What  deviation 
from  ordinary  or  literal  application  in  the  cry  of  David  ? 

"O  my  son,  Absalom;  my  son,  my  son  Absalom!  Would 
God  I  had  died  for  thee,  O  Absalom  !  my  son,  my  son  !" 

— an  accumulation  of  figures  bursting  from  the  heart ;  a 
cry  that  has  re-echoed  century  after  century  in  the  sym- 
pathizing soul  of  every  reader.  The  common  definition 
needs  to  be  greatly  widened ;  it  is  the  result  of  unworthy 
ideas  of  rhetoric  long  prevalent,  and  greatly  aids  to  up- 
hold these  ideas  on  the  throne.  Such  a  definition  as 
the  following  is  demanded : 

"  A  figure  of  rhetoric  is  a  deviation  from  the  literal  or  from 
the  more  ordinary  application  of  words;  or  it  is  some  turn  of 
expression  prompted  by  the  mind  in  intense  action." 

Figures  are  thus  at  once  vindicated,  as  by  a  magic 
stroke,  from  the  usual  charge  of  surfaceness.  They  must 
often  be  among  the  simplest  forms  of  speech ;  they  are 
seen  to  well  up  from  the  deepest  inward  fountains.  We 
become  convinced  that  the  study  of  them  on  sound  prin- 
ciples must  form  one  of  the  most  important  departments 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  157 

of  criticism ;  must  bring  us  into  connection  with  the 
grandeur  and  versatility  of  language  and  of  mind ;  nay, 
with  His  glories  of  whom  speech  is  the  proclamation, 
and  mind  the  image;  while  these  figures  are  the  war- 
gear  of  the  orator  wherewith  he  is  to  conquer  the  world. 
We  defend  the  new  definition  proposed,  by  the  au- 
thority of  one  of  the  soundest  thinkers  of  our  time,  The- 
remin, in  his  great  work,  "  Eloquence  a  Virtue :" 

"  This  change  in  the  position  and  movements  of  the  orator, 
peculiar  to  moral  activity  of  all  sorts,  can  be  perceived  in  the 
case  of  the  activity  of  the  orator  only  in  the  thoughts  and  the 
words,  and  in  their  constantly  varying  turns ;  since  the  orator 
makes  use  of  thoughts  and  words  only  in  order  to  the  realiza- 
tion of  his  idea.  These  turns  are  the  so-called  rhetorical  fig- 
ures ;  an  expression  which  must  not  be  taken  to  denote  mere 
ornaments  coldly  and  artificially  contrived  to  set  off  the  dis- 
course (to  which  the  expression  might  lead),  but  lively  move- 
ments in  thought  and  language,  prompted  by  the  imagination 
under  the  guidance  of  rhetorical  affection." 

In  admirable  agreement  with  this  profounder  view  is 
the  fact  that,  although  Demosthenes  despised  the  showy, 
the  merely  ornamental,  and  has  a  style  the  farthest  pos- 
sible from  poetical  flourishes,  yet  the  ancients  boasted 
that  he  never  brought  forward  a  thought  that  did  not 
throw  his  language  into  some  figure. 

Of  figures  of  rhetoric  it  has  been  usual  to  say  that 
there  are  two  kinds :  figures  of  words  and  figures  of 
things — a  distinction  worse  than  useless.  The  true  doc- 
trine is  that  all  rhetorical  figures  show  us  some  new 
moulding  of  words  in  accordance  with  some  actual  rela- 
tion between  things  outward  one  to  another ;  or  between 
an  outward  and  a  mental  thing ;  or  at  the  bidding  of  some 
emotion  or  inward  thing ;  or  between  two  or  more  men- 
tal things ;  so  that  every  figure  of  rhetoric  is  at  once  a 
figure  of  words  and  a  figure  of  things.  Even  alliteration, 
wherein  two  or  more  words  placed  near  each  other  be- 


158          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

gin  with  the  same  letter,  produces  a  reality,  a  delicate 
rhyme  at  the  beginning  of  words  instead  of  at  the  end ; 
as  in  Pope,  of  a  pedant : 

"  A  bookful  blockhead,  ignorantly  read, 
With  loads  of  learned  lumber  in  his  head." 

So,  too,  the  pun  is  more  than  mere  words ;  for  in  it 
there  must  be  a  difference  of  sense,  and  not  merely  a 
similarity  of  sound.  Voltaire  and  Lord  Chesterfield  met 
at  a  gay  party  in  Paris,  where  shone  several  French  la- 
dies with  cheeks  artificially  radiant : 

"  My  lord,"  said  Voltaire,  "  what  think  you  of  our  French 
beauties  ?" 

Replied  Chesterfield: 

"  I  am  no  judge  of  paintings." 

Some  time  after,  in  London,  an  English  lady,  outra- 
geously rouged,  was  paying  the  French  wit  great  atten- 
tion. Whispered  Chesterfield  to  him : 

"  Take  care  you  be  not  captivated." — "  No  fear,"  replied  the 
lively  Frenchman ;  "  I  shall  not  allow  myself  to  be  taken  by 
an  English  craft  under  French  colors." 

Even  in  Gay's  new  song  of  "  New  Similes,"  points  of 
resemblance,  fantastic  yet  real,  are  caught  at : 

"My  passion  is  as  mustard  strong; 

I  sit  all  sober  sad ; 
Drunk  as  a  piper  all  day  long, 
Or  like  a  March  hare  mad." 

Many  a  false  and  bloody  dogma  has  been  bolstered  up 
by  misinterpreting  figures ;  how  important,  then,  to  un- 
derstand the  laws  by  which  they  should  be  interpreted. 
When  the  literal  meaning  of  an  expression  is  incompati- 
ble with  plain  human  experience  of  the  nature  of  things, 
common-sense  compels  us  to  receive  the  expression  as 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  159 

figurative,  if  the  Figurative  lies  at  the  door.  We  meet 
in  the  Bible  this : 

"The  little  hills  leap  on  every  side." 

We  know  that  the  hills  can  not  leap ;  we  have  no  diffi- 
culty in  seeing  that  they  leap  figuratively.  In  another 
place  we  find — 

"  I  am  the  door." 

Our  knowledge  of  things  tells  us  that  the  Great,  Lowly 
One  never  was  a  plank  of  wood  used  as  a  door ;  we  be- 
think us  of  a  point  of  resemblance  between  Him  and  a 
door:  both  give  entrance.  We  know  how  metaphors 
abound  in  Holy  Writ.  We  have  recourse  to  metaphor 
when  one  says,  pointing  to  a  portrait  on  the  wall : 

"  This  is  Washington." 

There  is  no  riddle;  "  is  "very  frequently  means  "repre- 
sents ;"  that  usage  is  very  common  in  the  Bible.  When 
we  read, 

"This  is  my  body," 

we  trample  on  the  laws  of  Nature,  on  the  laws  of  lan- 
guage, especially  on  the  laws  of  Bible  language,  when  we 
force  these  very  plain,  words  to  tell  us  that  dough  hath 
become  God.  Many  excellent  people  have  fallen  into 
that  opinion.  Yet  in  the  Scripture  the  word  "  is  "  never 
means  "  becomes,"  or  "  is  changed  into ;"  but  very  often 
it  signifies  "  represents."  The  scientific,  the  common- 
sense  interpretation  of  one  figurative  utterance  would 
sweep  from  the  earth  much  of  religious  error. 

To  be  true  to  Nature  and  to  matter  of  fact  is,  then, 
one  of  the  first  excellences  of  a  writer.  Mrs.  Dunlop, 
the  early  patroness  of  Burns,  had  an  old  housekeeper 
who  was  astonished  at  the  attentions  her  mistress  paid 
to  a  plowman.  To  remove  this  prejudice,  Mrs.  D.  made 
her  read  a  MS.  copy  of  that  perfect  poem,  "  The  Cotter's 


160          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Saturday  Night,"  in  which  Burns  described  family  wor- 
ship in  a  peasant's  cot.  Mrs.  D.  asked  the  old  woman 
what  she  thought  of  the  piece.  She  replied  with  indif- 
ference : 

"The  like  of  you  Quality  may  see  a  vast  in't;  but  I  was  aye 
used  to  the  very  same  as  a'  that  in  my  ain  faither's  house,  and 
I  dinna  ken  how  he  could  hae  described  it  ony  ither  way." 

She  was  full  of  the  notion  that  fine  poetry  must  be  op- 
posite or  superior  to  nature.  Burns,  when  told  of  the 
old  woman's  criticism,  said  that  he  never  had  received  a 
higher  compliment. 

The  conception,  very  common,  that  there  must  be,  in 
figurative  passages,  something  vague,  conjectural,  unde- 
termined, is  another  base  view.  Figures  are  governed  by 
fixed,  thoroughly  ascertained  laws,  they  are  the  very  op- 
posite of  new  inventions ;  under  careful  study  have  they 
been  for  many  ages.  For  example,  we  have  been  aided 
in  our  treatment  of  them  by  reading  Quintilian's  Ninth 
Book,  written  some  sixteen  hundred  years  ago ;  and  the 
subject  was  a  very  old  one  in  his  time.  The  right  mode 
of  interpreting  them  can  not  but  have  been  long  since 
defined  with  precision.  By  every  honest  writer  they  are 
employed,  not  to  make  his  meaning  obscure,  but  with 
the  set  purpose  of  rendering  it  brilliantly  distinct ;  very 
often  they  are  absolutely  indispensable  to  an  accurate 
statement  of  the  truth.  Let  us  never  again  be  so  weak 
as  to  utter  the  idiotic  cry  over  a  Scripture  passage,  "  Oh, 
this  is  figurative,"  arid  to  cradle  ourselves  in  the  opinion 
that,  if  figurative,  it  must  needs  be  vague  and  obscure. 

XXXV.  Simile  is  the  rhetorical  figure  that  comes  first 
before  us.  Of  this,  it  is  an  express  law  that  the  names  of 
the  things  compared  are  employed  in  their  literal  sense. 
A  simile  is  a  comparison  distinctly  stated ;  marked  by 
some  such  word  as  "  like "  or  "  as."  When  it  is  said, 
"  The  wicked  are  like  the  troubled  sea,"  both  of  the 
terms,  "  wicked "  and  "  sea,"  are  taken  in  their  usual 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  161 

sense.  Turn  to  William  Wordsworth,  greatest  medita- 
tive poet  the  world  has  ever  seen ;  sometimes  prosy,  ser- 
monizing, but  rich  in  the  noblest  moral  truths  nobly  ex- 
pressed ;  sympathizing  most  deeply  with  Nature,  read- 
ing in  her  mountains,  rivers,  and  lonely  tarns  or  lakes 
deep  among  the  hills,  glorious  hints  of  God  and  duty ; 
and  in  these  clouds,  every  where  lovely,  islanding  the  sky 
with  charm.  Of  a  calm  evening  he  says,  as  one  might 
of  Wordsworth's  own  muse — which  it  precisely  suits: 

"  It  is  a  beauteous  evening,  calm  and  still. 
The  holy  time  as  quiet  as  a  nun 
Breathless  with  adoration." 

All  honor  to  him,  were  it  but  for  the  homage  he  paid 
to  man's  true  nobility,  in  his  selecting  as  the  hero  of  the 
"  Excursion,"  his  most  labored  work,  not  baron  or  knight, 
but  a  Scotch  peddler,  whose  knighthood  came  direct 
from  God. 

Turn  back  in  the  years  to  Thomas  Lodge,  the  drama- 
tist, who  died  of  the  plague  in  1623.  Note  the  Bible 
spirit  that  dictates  his  thought ;  may  it  imbue  you  with 
the  feeling  that  every  thought  which  breathes  a  Bible 
spirit  is  sure  to  be  noble,  and  to  contain  in  it  the  ele- 
ments of  poesy: 

"  Aye,  but  the  milder  passions  show  the  man ; 
For  as  the  leaf  doth  beautify  the  tree, 
And  pleasant  flowers  bedeck  the  painted  spring, 
Even  so  in  men  of  greatest  reach  and  power 
A  mild  and  piteous  thought  augments  renown." 

Bible  influence  reigns,  the  strongest  impulse  on  his 
mind,  in  the  opinions  of  the  next  writer  from  whom  we 
quote,  Samuel  Taylor  Coleridge,  one  of  the  profound- 
est  thinkers,  one  of  the  most  imaginative  poets,  one  of 
the  most  philosophical  critics  in  our  literature ;  unhappy 
in  his  being  so  desultory  in  his  mental  exertions ;  who, 

L 


1 62          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

if  he  had  proposed  to  take  you  from  Boston  to  New 
York,  would  have  gone  round  by  Cuba,  the  Sandwich 
Islands,  and  California,  and  likely  would  not  have  got  to 
New  York  after  all : 

"  Human  experience,"  said  he,  "  like  the  stern  lights  of  a  ship 
at  sea,  too  often  illuminates  only  the  path  we  have  passed  over." 

Lord  Bacon,  father  of  our  modern  Philosophy  of  Ex- 
periment, condescends  to  give  us  this: 

"Tall  men,  like  tall  houses,  are  usually  ill  furnished  in  the 
upper  story." 

Or  let  a  simile  convey  to  you  a  criticism,  in  part  just,  on 
the  style  of  Gibbon,  whose  "  History  of  the  Decline  and 
Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire  "  is  a  most  splendid  master- 
piece. Said  of  him  the  eminent  Greek  scholar,  Professor 
Porson : 

"Gibbon's  style  is  too  uniform;  he  writes  in  the  same  flow- 
ery and  pompous  style  on  every  subject.  He  is  like  Christie, 
the  auctioneer  who  says  as  much  in  praise  of  a  ribbon  as  of  a 
Raphael." 

Or  hasten  to  Jeremy  Taylor,  Bishop  of  Down  and  Con- 
nor, the  great  pulpit  poet  of  England,  the  Spenser  of 
theology,  whose  similes  at  times  are  over-rich,  carrying 
him  away  from  his  subject  to  themselves.  He  thus  com- 
pares the  good  man's  prayers,  that  have  to  struggle  their 
way  to  heaven  through  many  a  cross-wind  of  tempta- 
tion, to  the  sinking,  soaring,  and  singing  of  a  lark: 

"  So  have  I  seen  a  lark  rising  from  his  bed  of  grass,  and 
soaring  upward,  singing  as  he  rises;  and  he  hopes  to  get  to 
heaven,  and  to  climb  above  the  clouds ;  but  the  poor  bird  was 
beateft^back  by  the  loud  sighings  of  an  eastern  wind,  and  his 
motion  made  irregular  and  inconstant,  descending  more  at 
every  breath  of  the  tempest  than  it  could  recover  by  the  libra- 
tion  and  frequent  weighing  of  its  wings,  till  the  little  creature 
was  forced  to  sit  down  and  pant,  and  stay  till  the  storm  was 
over;  and  then  it  made  a  prosperous  flight,  and  rose  and  sang, 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  163 

as  if  it  had  learned  music  and  motion  from  an  angel  as  he 
passed  sometime  through  the  air  about  his  ministries  here  be- 
low. So  is  the  prayer  of  a  good  man." 

A  simile  that  is  over-rich ;  but  how  sweet  a  poem. 

Spurgeon  has  found,  as  will  every  man  of  power  and 
fervor,  that  the  bare  Gospel,  impetuously  preached,  is 
stronger  to  make  a  sensation  than  artistic  ceremonial, 
o*r  pretty  adornments  hung  in  gaudy  festoons  around 
the  portals  of  bliss  and  woe.  Take  this  from  him : 

"  God  puts  our  prayers  like  rose-leaves  between  the  leaves 
of  his  book  of  remembrance,  and  when  the  volume  is  opened 
at  last,  there  shall  be  a  precious  fragrance  springing  from 
them." 

Every  sin  against  fact  is  a  sin  against  taste.  Skelton, 
a  satirical  poet  of  Henry  the  Eighth's  day,  thus  writes: 

"  Merry  Margaret, 

As  midsummer  flower; 
Gentle  as  falcon, 

Or  hawk  of  the  tower." 

Our  idea  of  falcon  and  hawk  is  such  that  we  would 
rather  be  excused  from  wedding  a  lady  of  that  ravenous 
class.  This  simile,  we  fear,  was  predictive  of  sharp  nails 
after  marriage.  Yet,  though  a  daring  simile,  natural 
enough  was  Sydney  Smith's,  when,  speaking  of  Daniel 
Webster,  he  said — 

"  He  struck  me  as  much  like  a  steam-engine  in  trousers." 

There  are  two  modes  of  treating  a  simile :  one  by 
simply  affirming  one  thing  to  be  like  another;  and  one 
by  not  merely  affirming  a  resemblance,  but  pointing  out 
the  nature  and  details  of  that  resemblance.  Sir  Walter 
Scott,  the  Shakespeare  of  the  North,  says : 

"  The  tear  down  childhood's  cheek  that  flows 
Is  like  the  dew-drop  on  the  rose." 

If  he  had  stopped  there,  we  would  have  had  a  simile. 


164          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

treated  in  the  first  way;  but  how  much  more  effective 
when  he  expands : 

"  When  next  the  summer  breeze  comes  by,  * 

And  shakes  the  bush,  the  flower  is  dry." 

Oliver  Goldsmith  contributes  to  us  next.  Vain  as  a 
peacock,  guileless  as  a  child;  liberality  itself;  giving 
away  his  last  waistcoat  or  last  penny  to  the  distressed, 
yet  overflowing  with  a  certain  wondrous  sagacity  which 
he  seemed  incapable  of  using  in  his  own  affairs ;  master 
of  a  style  admirably  elegant,  simple,  easy;  who  in  poetry, 
novel,  comedy,  essay,  has  left  us  masterpieces.  Open  his 
fine  poem  the  "  Traveler ;"  this  passage  is  justly  cele- 
brated— of  the  Swiss  mountaineer  he  speaks : 

"Dear  is  that  shed  to  which  his  soul  conforms, 
And  dear  that  hill  which  lifts  him  to  the  storms; 
And  as  a  child,  when  scaring  sounds  molest, 
Clings  close  and  closer  to  the  mother's  breast, 
So  the  loud  torrent  and  the  whirlwind's  roar, 
But  bind  him  to  his  native  mountains  more." 

In  Moore's  "  Life  of  George  Gordon,  Lord  Byron,"  the 
biographer  in  his  beautiful  prose  declares  of  the  gifted 
but  licentious  nobleman : 

"  Like  the  chestnut-tree,  that  grows  best  in  volcanic  soils,  he 
luxuriates  most  where  the  conflagration  of  passion  has  left  its 
mark." 

You  will  observe  here  how  botanical  knowledge  supplies 
a  happy  illustration ;  and  the  same  can  not  but  be  true 
of  all  kinds  of  science  and  knowledge.  To  be  quick  in 
seeing  likenesses  between  many  things,  you  need  to  know 
many  things.  An  ignorant,  unobservant  man  is  very  un- 
likely to  originate  good  similes,  which  to  be  good  need 
to  be  true  to  nature  and  to  fact.  If  you  would  write 
a  style  richly  illustrated,  heap  up  facts  in  your  mind. 
Hence  it  is  that  some  whose  style  was  bare  and  dry  in 
youth,  when  their  knowledge  was  very  limited,  have 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  165 

written  with  animation  and  brilliancy  in  advanced  life, 
when  their  memory  teemed  with  information,  with  sug- 
gestive facts.  The  extract  from  Moore  teaches  you 
to  form  a  habit,  especially,  of  marking  with  quick  eye 
the  modes  of  life  in  animals  and  plants ;  the  poet-biog- 
rapher had  seen  and  taken  good  note  of  the  majestic 
chestnuts  that  grow  from  the  lava-soil  of  Vesuvius,  or  he 
had  read  of  the  circumstance,  and  it  had  been  stored  in 
his  recollection.  But  if  you  try  at  similes  before  you 
have  knowledge,  or  while  your  eye  is  dull  or  your  heart 
uninterested,  your  similes  will  be  worn-out  tinsel,  bor- 
rowed at  second-hand  from  others.  Commit  to  mem- 
ory this  priceless  maxim:  No  one  can  be  a  fine  writer 
merely  by  wishing  to  be  so,  or  by  directly  putting  forth 
an  effort  to  be  so  ;  you  will  succeed  better  by  working  at 
it  indirectly ;  by  filling  your  mind  with  facts,  especially 
if  these  be  obtained  direct  from  nature  rather  than  from 
books ;  then  similes  will  come  "  at  their  own  sweet  will." 
We  enforce  this  most  significant  law  by  a  simile  from 
Dr.  Campbell's  admirable  u  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric :" 

"  As  when  the  rays  of  the  sun  are  collected  into  the  focus  of 
a  burning-glass,  the  smaller  the  spot  is  which  receives  them, 
compared  with  the  surface  of  the  glass,  the  greater  is  the  splen- 
dor— so  in  exhibiting  our  sentiments  by  speaking,  the  narrower 
the  compass  of  words  is  wherein  the  thought  is  comprised,  the 
more  energetic  is  the  expression." 

A  quotation  this,  proving,  what  Macaulay  and  others 
deny,  that  science  is  admirably  fitted  to  give  majestic 
contributions  to  poesy.  Macaulay  argues  very  strenu- 
ously that  as  science  extends,  imagination  must  wither, 
and  poesy  forsake  the  earth ;  just  as  a  loud-voiced  band 
are  proclaiming  that  science  will  scare  God  off  the  field; 
but  it  lies  plain  before  you  here  that  science  supplied  Dr. 
Campbell  with  his  illustration — a  highly  poetical  one, 
yet  no  illusion. 

Hear,  farther,  the  Rev.  Dr.  Caird.     He  is  maintaining 


1 66         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

that  attention  to  the  claims  of  Heaven  and  to  the  claims 
of  earth  should  and  easily  may  go  together.  It  is  sci- 
ence that  gives  him  his  illustration : 

"  The  planets  in  the  heavens  have  a  twofold  motion — in  their 
orbits  and  on  their  axes;  the  one  motion  not  interfering,  but 
carried  on  in  perfect  harmony  with  the  other.  So  must  it  be 
that  man's  twofold  activities,  round  the  heavenly  and  the  earth- 
ly centre,  disturb  not,  nor  jar  with,  each  other." 

4 

Or  from  the  same  author  take  this : 

"  Reason  is  to  faith  as  the  eye  to  the  telescope." 

How  finely  these  few  words  illustrate  the  invaluable 
principle  that  reason  and  faith  never  contradict  each 
other;  that  faith  may  pierce  beyond  human  reason,  be- 
cause faith  avails  itself  of  the  reason  of  God,  the  tele- 
scope it  looks  through. 

"The  Wagoner,"  by  Thomas  Buchanan  Reid,  opens 
with  a  crowd  of  similes,  as  the  hero  dashes  into  a  Phila- 
delphia inn : 

"  The  latch  went  up,  the  door  was  thrown 
Awide,  as  by  a  tempest  blown  ; 
While  bold  as  an  embodied  storm, 
Strode  in  a  dark  and  stalwart  form." 

For  Bible  similes,  see  Matt,  vii.,  24-27 ;  ix.,  37 ;  Ezek.  xv. 
The  sources  of  simile,  how  deep  they  lie  !  David  Mac- 
beth Moir,  on  the  death  of  his  son,  gives  an  example  of 
one  of  the  most  overflowing  sources — the  heart.  How 
the  heart  gives  us  to  see  the  outward  through  emotion 
—through  those  we  love !  Casa  Wappy  was  the  child's 
love-name : 

"We  mourn  for  thee  when  blind,  blank  night 

The  chamber  fills; 

We  pine  for  thee  when  morn's  first  light 
Reddens  the  hills. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  167 

•  The  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars,  the  sea — 
All,  to  the  wall-flower  and  wild  pea — 
Are  changed :  we  saw  the  world  through  thee, 
Casa  Wappy." 

Very  pleasant  to  luxuriate  among  similes,  gentlest 
births  of  the  Muse ;  too  deliberate  and  calm  for  passion 
in  its  stormiest ;  blossoming  forth  when  meditation  or 
fancy  breathe  their  placid  summer  breezes  over  the  lake- 
like  mind.  Oratory  and  tragedy  shun  them.  Cicero, 
over-ornamental  though  he  be,  has  scarcely  one ;  when 
Shakespeare  in  any  crisis  of  emotion  introduces  them, 
they  are  exceedingly  short  and  simple,  as  when  over  the 
sleeping  body  of  Desdemona  Othello  whispers,  more, 
however,  in  meditative  sadness  than  in  wrath — 

"Yet  I'll  not  shed  her  blood, 
Nor  scar  that  whiter  skin  of  hers  than  snow, 
And  smooth  as  monumental  alabaster." 

Still,  the  range  of  this  figure  is  far  from  narrow,  for  it 
may  glisten  with  tears  or  dimple  with  laughter.  Paul- 
ding,  in  "  Salmagundi,"  describes  a  young  lady,  very  cor- 
pulent, yet  very  tight-laced : 

"  She  was  like  an  apple-pudding  tied  in  the  middle." 

Sir  Thomas  Overbury,  an  old  writer  of  delightful  es- 
says, who  was  treacherously  assassinated  in  1631,  says: 

"  The  man  who  has  not  any  thing  to  boast  of  but  his  illus- 
trious ancestors  is  like  a  potato — the  only  good  belonging  to 
him  is  under  ground." 

Youthful  composers  are  more  apt  to  go  to  excess  in 
this  figure  than  in  any  other.  Dr.  Anthon  assures  them 
that  Homer  has  not  one  simile  in  the  whole  First  Book 
of  the  "  Iliad."  But  at  line  47,  of  the  Sun-god  coming 
in  wrath  to  send  pest  on  the  Achaians,  it  is  said : 

"He  came  like  Night." 


1 68          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Very  unlike  to  the  usual  Homeric  simile,  which  gener- 
ally is  a  comet,  a  small  nucleus  with  a  long  tail.  The 
old  king  of  song  having  once  started  the  illustrative 
image,  often  indulges  in  a  lengthened  description  —  at 
times  very  homely.  Ajax,  pommeled  in  vain  by  Trojan 
swords,  is  compared  to  an  obstinate  ass  cudgeled  by  a 
dozen  shepherds,  yet  refusing  to  budge  an  inch  ;  and  the 
mind  of  Odysseus,  restless  in  a  fierce  struggle  of  indig- 
nation against  self-control,  is  compared  to  a  haggis  kept 
bobbing  around  in  a  boiling  caldron.  However,  many  of 
his  similes  are  admirable :  brief,  vivid,  breathing  the  very 
spirit  of  the  heroic  age  ;  as  when  of  the  Myrmidons — 

"  They  rushed  to  battle  like  thirsty  wolves  to  a  spring." 

From  Dr.  Bushnell  let  us  now  strengthen  our  position 
that  the  rhetorical  is  not  necessarily  the  unreal.  After 
mentioning  that  all  words  descriptive  of  mind  were  orig- 
inally descriptive  of  matter,  he  thus  proceeds: 

"It  is  not  perceived  that  when  a  word  rises  out  of  fact  in 
the  physical  range  to  be  the  fixed  name,  by  figure,  of  something 
in  the  range  of  thought  and  spirit,  it  obtains  a  meaning  as  much 
fuller  and  more  solid  as  it  is  closer  akin  to  mind.  Is  good 
taste  nothing,  because  it  is  not  the  literal  tasting  faculty  of  the 
mouth  ?  Is  a  good  heart  nothing,  because  it  is  not  the  pump- 
ing organ  of  the  body,  but  only  a  figure  derived  from  it  ?  Is 
rectitude  nothing,  because  it  is  only  a  figurative  straightness, 
and  not  a  literal  straight  line  ?  Is  integrity  nothing,  because 
it  is  only  a  moral  wholeness,  and  not  the  veritable  integer  of 
arithmetic  ?  How  visibly  does  the  figure,  as  figure,  rise  to  a 
nobler  and  more  real  meaning  in  all  such  examples;  and  when 
we  find  that  human  language  is  underlaid  all  through,  in  this 
manner,  with  physical  images,  observing  their  wondrous  fitness 
to  serve  as  a  wording  for  all  that  mind  can  think  or  wish  to 
express,  we  are  half  disposed  to  believe  that  they  were  set  into 
nature  for  this  purpose.  They  become  even  more  REAL  as  fig- 
ures than  they  are  as  facts;  and  there  is  no  so  great  victory 
for  any  truth  or  subject  of  intelligence,  as  when  it  has  obtained 
some  fit  figure  of  the  true  to  be  its  interpreter." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  169 

To  be  witty  or  'humorous  you  must  use  figures,  ex- 
pressed or  implied.  Let  the  Rev.  Dr.  Emmons  prove  it. 
A  pompous  young  preacher  once  asked  him  how  he  liked 
his  sermon.  The  Doctor,  then  ninety  years  of  age,  rose 
from  his  chair,  protruded  his  cheeks,  inflated  his  chest, 
gave  a  significant  puff,  and  sat  down  without  saying  a 
word.  To  another  youth  he  said : 

"Your  sermon  was  too  much  like  Seekonk  Plain — long  and 
level." 

We  have  mentioned  that  Homer's  similes  are  often 
short  poems,  far  expanded  beyond  the  point  of  resem- 
blance. Such,  too,  the  habit  of  Milton  ;  which  has  been 
defended  by  Addison,  the'  critic  who,  earlier  than  any 
other,  brought  Milton  into  view  of  the  British  world: 

"  When  Milton  alludes  either  to  things  or  persons,  he  never 
quits  his  simile  till  it  rises  to  some  very  great  idea,  which  is 
often  foreign  to  the  occasion  that  gave  it  birth.  The  simile 
does  not  perhaps  occupy  above  a  line  or  two,  but  the  poet  runs 
on  with  the  hint  until  he  has  raised  out  of  it  some  brilliant 
image  or  sentiment  adapted  to  inflame  the  mind  of  the  reader, 
and  to  give  it  that  sublime  kind  of  entertainment  which  is  suit- 
able to  the  nature  of  a  heroic  poem.'"' 

In  short,  though  you  never  are  to  imitate  them,  regard 
such  similes  as  brief  episodes;  and,  instead  of  grumbling, 
be  thankful  that  copious  Heaven  hath  sent  you  a  mind 
who  sins  on  the  side  of  over-wealth. 


1 70  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

FIGURES    OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    SECOND. 

Simile. 

WITH  many  the  conception  is  deep-rooted  that  poesy 
is  necessarily  at  war  with  sound  common-sense.  It  is 
one  main  object  of  this  work  to  disabuse  you  of  so  incon- 
siderate a  prejudice.  In  Shakespeare's  beautiful  drama, 
"  The  Tempest,"  study  his  conceptions,  so  contrasted— 
Ariel  and  Caliban.  Supposing  such  beings  to  exist, 
Shakespeare's  genius  shows  itself,  its  balance  and  wis- 
dom, by  his  making  them  each  play  a  part  in  perfect 
consistence  with  the  supposed  nature  of  each.  Imagina- 
tion created  them,  but  common-sense,  judgment  exqui- 
sitely accurate,  filled  in  the  details ;  if  not,  both  would 
have  been  ridiculous  to  every  cultured  mind. 

Accordingly,  a  simile  that  runs  counter  to  any  clear 
perception  jars  on  the  intellect.  Robert  Montgomery 
contributes  the  subjoined.  From  his  poem  on  "  Satan  " 
he  is  ycleped  "  Satan  Montgomery :" 

"  Lo  !  the  bright  dew-bead  on  the  bramble  lies, 
Like  liquid  rapture  upon  Beauty's  eyes." 

Very  well  to  compare  the  dew-bead  to  the  pity  of  a  beau- 
tiful eye,  but  .the  ladies  are  entitled  to  object  to  liken- 
ing their  eyes  to  brambles.  William  Habington,  who 
often  wrote  elegant  and  choice  English,  is  chiefly  re- 
membered nowadays  by  an  absurd  simile.  Blackfriars 
is  a  street  in  London  abounding  in  candy-stores ;  and 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  171 

so  of  a  feast  so  rich  that  Heaven  must  have  rained  down 
sweetmeats,  he  exclaims : 

"  It  seem'd  as  though  Heaven  were 
Blackfriars,  and  each  star — a  confectioner." 

Our  very  admiration  of  Mrs.  Barrett  Browning,  queen 
of  all  poetesses,  makes  us  more  willing  to  aid  in  ridicul- 
ing her  conceits  and  her  husband's  unendurable  obscuri- 
ties ;  as  thus : 

"  Then  the  bitter  sea 
Inexorably  pushed  between  us  both ; 
And  sweeping  up  the  ship  with  my  despair, 
Threw  us  out  as  a  pasture  to  the  stars." 

Saith  Bayne: 

"No  Ossianic  juvenile  ever  perpetrated  purer  nonsense. 
What  possible  resemblance  there  can  be  between  a  ship  and  a 
pasture;  why  and  when  stars  go  out  to  grass;  and  wherefore 
having  so  gone  they  should  feed  on  ships  and  young  ladies 
— these  are  questions  of  insoluble  mystery." 

But  to  admire  is  pleasanter  than  to  carp.  In  "  Festus  " 
is  this : 

"I'll  not  wish  for  stars;  but  I  could  love 
Some  peaceful  spot,  where  we  might  dwell  unknown — 
Where  home-born  joys  might  nestle  round  our  hearts 
As  swallows  round  our  roofs." 

Passing  into  the  domain  of  eloquence,  let  us  mark,  we 
can  not  do  it  but  with  delight,  how  Lord  Chatham  rises 
from  a  casual  expression,  almost  beneath  the  dignity  of 
the  occasion  in  the  House  of  Lords,  into  a  magnificent 
image,  enforced  by  a  sublime  classic  quotation : 

"  I  would  not  touch  a  feather  of  the  prerogative.  The  ex- 
pression perhaps  is  too  light;  but  since  I  have  made  use  of  it, 
let  me  add  that  the  entire  command  and  power  of  directing  the 
local  disposition  of  the  army  is  to  the  royal  prerogative  as  the 


172          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

master-feather  in  the  eagle's  wing;  and  if 'I  were  permitted  to 
carry  the  allusion  a  little  farther,  I  would  say  that  they  have 
disarmed  the  imperial  bird — the  ministrum  fulminis  alitem  (the 
winged  minister  of  the  thunder).  The  army  is  the  thunder  of 
the  crown." 

This  was  spoken  January  22d,  1770.  A  few  months 
after,  Junius  wrote  what  is  considered  his  finest  image: 

"  The  king's  honor  is  that  of  his  people.  The  feather  that 
adorns  the  royal  bird  supports  its  flight.  Strip  him  of  his 
plumage,  and  you  fix  him  to  the  earth." 

The  proof  from  handwriting  seems  to  have  proved,  quite 
recently  (1871),  Junius  to  have  been  Sir  Philip  Francis. 

Mr.  Mudie,  the  author  of  some  popular  works  on  "  The 
Seasons,"  was  originally  a  teacher  in  Dundee.  He  hap- 
pened to  be  one  of  a  tea-party  at  the  house  of  the  Rev. 
Dr.  M.  The  Doctor  was  renowned  for  the  suavity  of 
his  manners,  and  his  especial  politeness  toward  the  fair 
sex.  Handing  a  dish  of  honey  to  one  of  the  ladies,  he 
said,  in  his  wonted  manner — 

^  "  Do  take  a  little  honey,  Miss ,  'tis  so  sweet — so  like 

yourself." 

Mr.  Mudie  could  not  restrain  his  native  tendency  to 
humor;  so,  handing  the  butter-dish  to  the  host,  he  ex- 
claimed— 

*  "Do  take  a  little  butter,  Doctor;  'tis  so  like  yourself." 

A  circumstance  recorded  in  Mitford's  "  Life,"  of  the 
poet  Gray,  is  a  striking  example  of  how  much  a  good 
simile  improves  a  passage. .  Thomson,  author  of  "  The 
Seasons,"  had  written  thus  his  picture  of  Lavinia,  in  his 
"Autumn:" 

"Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  Beauty's  self, 
Recluse  among  the  woods;  if  city  dames 
Will  deign  their  faith.     And  thus  she  went,  compell'd 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  173 

By  strong  necessity,  with  as  serene 

And  pleased  a  look  as  Patience  e'er  put  on, 

To  glean  Palemon's  fields." 

Thomson  laid  this  passage  before  Pope,  then  in  the 
zenith  of  his  fame.  Pope  drew  his  pen  through  it,  and 
wrote  thus: 

"  Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  Beauty's  self, 
Recluse  among  the  close  embowering  woods ; 
As  in  the  hollow  breast  of  Apennine, 
Beneath  the  shelter  of  encircling  hills, 
A  myrtle  rises,  far  from  human  eyes, 
And  breathes  its  balmy  fragrance  on  the  wild ; 
So  flourished,  blooming  and  unseen  by  all, 
The  sweet  Lavinia." 

John  Locke,  whose  brief  treatise  on  the  "  Conduct  of 
the  Understanding"  is  invaluable  (let  every  young  per- 
son buy  it,  and  read  it  fifty  times),  a  writer  who  uses  a 
very  plain  style,  very  seldom  giving  way  to  the  poetic, 
gives  us,  in  endeavoring  to  explain  the  faculty  of  mem- 
ory more  accurately,  this  fine  instance  of  a  simile  natu- 
rally suggested : 

"The  ideas  as  well  as  the  children  of  our  youth  often  die 
before  us,  and  our  minds  represent  to  us  those  tombs  to  which 
we  are  approaching,  where,  though  the  brass  and  the  marble 
remain,  yet  the  inscriptions  are  effaced  by  time,  and  the  imagery 
is  mouldered  away." 

If  he  had  compared  the  aged  mind  to  a  canvas  from 
which  the  painting  had  faded,  the  comparison  would 
have  been  less  beautiful  far;  because  old  age  by  no 
means  so  naturally  suggests  the  thought  of  a  picture  as 
it  does  the  thought  of  the  sepulchre,  to  which  the  tot- 
tering step  of  Eld  is  so  inevitably  drawing  near.  But 
lay  it  to  heart — nothing  in  a  figure  charms  more  than 
naturalness. 

Avoiding  all  we  can  the  cant  of  the  falsely  Puritanic, 


1 74         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

we  must  maintain  that  poesy  is  marred  by  mean  views 
of  first  principles.  Pope  tells  us  of  angels  wondering  at 
the  intellect  of  Newton  : 

"  Superior  beings,  when  of  late  they  saw 
A  mortal  man  unfold  all  Nature's  law, 
Admired  such  wisdom  in  an  earthly  shape, 
And  showed  a  Newton  as  we  show  an  ape." 

Holy  Writ,  though  revealing  to  us  our  hideous  down- 
ward tendencies,  insists  on,  rejoices  in  our  priceless  fac- 
ulties, our  capabilities  of  repenting  and  of  soaring.  Pope 
imbibed  whatever  of  meanness  there  was  in  his  philoso- 
phy from  his  shallow  teacher,  Lord  Bolingbroke.  You 
mark  how  the  above  lines  are  degraded  by  infidel  views  of 
man ;  till  man  dwindles  down  into  a  "  pampered  goose," 
or  to  an  ape — as,  long  before  Darwin,  Lord  Monboddo 
made  our  species  out  to  be.  Holy  Writ  would  repre- 
sent a  Newton  as  an  embodied  eternity.  The  gifted 
Poe  makes  the  worm  greatly  man's  superior,  when  he 
says  of  human  life — 

"The  play  is  the  tragedy — man; 
And  the  hero,  the  conqueror — worm." 

Infidelity  is  the  mean,  crawling,  and  unintellectual 
thing  which  leads  quick  to  the  reign  of  the  commune 
in  our  cities — of  the  groveling  in  our  literature. 

Once  more,  truth  is  necessary  to  every  good  simile  in 
this,  that  it  must  be  born  from  some  real  glow  of  soul ; 
not  from  false  fervors  artificially  wrought  up.  Go  to  the 
"Annus  Mirabilis"  of  Dryden,  Pope's  immediate  prede- 
cessor. He  is  describing  a  sea-fight  between  the  Dutch 
and  English,  he  knowing  nothing  of  the  sea  save  at  sec- 
ond-hand from  books: 

"  Sometimes  from  fighting  squadrons  of  each  fleet, 

Deceived  themselves  or  to  preserve  a  friend, 
Two  grappling  ^Etnas  on  the  ocean  meet, 

And  English  fires  with  Belgian  flames  contend." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  175 


Compare,  if  you  choose,  two  war-ships  to  two 
but  for  two  ^Etnas  to  throw  out  grappling-irons  at  each 
other  is  equally  offensive  to  common-sense  and  to  the 
Muse,  who  is  a  much  more  sensible  woman  than  people 
give  her  credit  for: 

"  Then  at  each  tack  our  little  fleet  grows  less, 

And  like  maim'd  fowl  swim  lagging  on  the  main  ; 
Their  greater  loss  their  numbers  scarce  confess, 
While  they  lose  cheaper  than  the  English  gain." 

Of  a  sudden  the  grappling  ^Etnas  have  dwindled  into 
maimed  fowl  —  ducks,  or  other  water-fowl  ;  while  the  gen- 
eral diction  is  hard  and  ungenial,  as  appears  in  the  words 
"tack,"  "lagging,"  "scarce,"  "cheaper;"  and  the  degra- 
dation of  the  subject  is  completed  by  the  mercantile  ac- 
count of  profit  and  loss  in  the  closing  line  ;  and  all  this 
because  Dryden,  great  in  prose  and  in  poesy,  is  trying 
here  to  lash  himself  up  into  the  sublime,  the  genuine  sea- 
enthusiasm  being  wholly  absent.  Better  one  epithet  of 
Dibdin,  in  his  justly  famous  sea-songs;  when,  old  salt  as 
he  was,  in  heart  at  least,  he  speaks  of  his  ship  as  she 
goes  spanking  through  the  water,  dashing  the  foam  from 
her  bows,  as 

"  The  saucy  Arethusa." 

Be  honest  ;  be  in  downright  earnest  ;  if  you  would  be 
great  in  speaking  or  in  writing. 

The  critical  essays  of  Talfourd  are  valuable.  We  bring 
before  you  his  —  not  simile,  but  comparison,  of  Mackenzie 
(author  of  the  "  Man  of  Feeling"  and  of  "Julia  de  Rou- 
bigne")  and  Lawrence  Sterne,  in  order  to  introduce  to 
you  the  assertion  that  comparison  must  be  catalogued 
as  quite  distinct  from  simile,  as  you  will  see  at  once: 
comparison  admitting  of  dissimilitudes  as  well  as  simili- 
tudes: 

"  Sterne's  pathos  is,  indeed,  most  genuine  while  it  lasts,  but 
the  soul  is  not  suffered  to  cherish  the  feeling  which  it  awakens. 


1 76          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

He  does  not  shed,  like  Mackenzie,  one  mild  light  on  the  path 
of  life,  but  scatters  on  it  wild  coruscations  of  ever-shifting  bright- 
ness, which,  while  they  sometimes  disclose  spots  of  inimitable 
beauty,  often  do  but  fantastically  play  over  objects  dreary  and 
revolting.  All  in  Mackenzie  is  calm,  gentle,  harmonious.  No 
play  of  mistimed  wit,  no  flourish  of  rhetoric,  no  train  of  philo- 
sophical speculation  for  a  moment  diverts  our  sympathy.  Each 
of  his  best  works  is  like  one  deep  thought,  and  the  impression 
which  it  leaves  is  soft,  sweet,  and  undivided,  as  the  summer 
evening's  holiest  sigh." 

In  a  choice  simile,  James  Montgomery  (carefully  to  be 
distinguished  from  Robert  Montgomery)  sets  forth  the 
additional  charm  which  rhythm  gives  to  poesy: 

"  How  much  the  power  of  poetry  depends  upon  the  nice  in- 
flections of  rhythm  alone,  may  be  proved  by  taking  the  finest 
passages  of  Milton  or  Shakespeare,  and  merely  putting  them 
into  prose,  with  the  least  possible  variation  of  the  words  them- 
selves. The  attempt  would  be  like  gathering  up  dew-drops, 
which  appear  jewels  and  pearls  on  the  grass,  but  run  into  water 
in  the  hands;  the  essence  and  the  elements  remain,  but  the 
grace,  the  sparkle,  and  the  form  are  gone." 

Being  about  to  refer  once  more  to  Addison,  fix  in  your 
mind  these  facts  as  to  his  great  work  the  Spectator :  a 
daily  paper  of  one  article,  printed  in  London  every  morn- 
ing from  March  I,  1710,  till  December  6,  1712,  and  re- 
sumed in  1714  for  other  80  numbers,  of  which  Addison 
wrote,  out  of  the  whole  635,  274.  It  was  collected  into 
eight  volumes ;  in  which  form  the  circulation  rose  to  ten 
thousand. 

Three  famous  similes,  often  referred  to,  let  us  now 
place  before  you.  The  first  is  well  known  from  its  being 
the  boldest  figure  in  all  the  tame  poetry  of  the  graceful 
Addison.  It  occurs  in  his  poem  "The  Campaign,"  just- 
ly characterized  as  a  gazette  in  rhyme : 

"  'Twas  then  great  Marlborough's  mighty  soul  was  proved, 
That  in  the  shock  of  charging  hosts,  unmoved 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  177 

Amid  confusion,  horror,  and  despair, 
Examined  all  the  dreadful  scenes  of  war. 
In  peaceful  thought  the  field  of  death  stirvey'd, 
To  fainting  squadrons  sent  the  timely  aid. 
So  when  an  angel,  by  divine  command, 
$          With  rising  tempests  shakes  a  guilty  land, 

And,  pleased  the  Almighty's  orders  to  perform, 
Rides  on  the  whirlwind,  and  directs  the  storm." 

Another  simile  of  historic  celebrity  is  Cowley's  on 
Lord  Bacon,  founder  of  what  is  the  philosophy  of  ex- 
periment, not  of  Darwinian  ape-honoring  guesswork : 

"  From  these  and  all  long-errors  of  the  way 
In  which  our  wandering  predecessors  went, 

And  like  old  Hebrews  many  years  did  stray 
In  deserts  but  of  small  extent, 

Bacon  like  Moses  led  us  forth  at  last; 

The  barren  wilderness  he  passed ; 

Did  on  the  very  borders  stand 

Of  the  blest  promised  land ; 

And  from  the  mountain-top  of  his  exalted  wit, 

Saw  it  himself,  and  showed  us  it." 

A  third  that  has  become  familiar  occupies  the  four 
last  lines  of  Sir  John  Denham's  "  Cooper's  Hill."  Of  the 
River  Thames  he  speaks  thus : 

"  O  could  I  flow  like  thee,  and  make  thy  stream 
My  great  example  as  it  is  my  theme: 
Though  deep  yet  clear;  though  gentle  yet  not  dull; 
Strong  without  rage;  without  o'erflowing,  full." 

We  pointed  out  the  distinction  between  simile  and 
comparison.  Mark  that  between  simile  and  allegory. 
In  simile,  both  objects  must  be  named — the  thing  repre- 
sented, and  the  thing  that  represents  or  resembles  it.  In 
allegory,  whose  name  means  "  another  discourse,"  and 
which  as  a  discourse  may  be  extended  to  a  volume,  as  in 
Bunyan's  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  the  representing  object 
alone  is  set  before  the  reader.  Compare  two  passages 

M 


178          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

very  similar  in  their  meaning.  The  first  is  Shakespeare's 
simile  of  the.  career  of  a  dissipated  youth,  likened  to  the 
fortunes  of  a  gay  ship  destined  to  hurricane : 

"  How  like  a  younger  or  a  prodigal 
The  scarfed  bark  puts  from  her  native  bay, 
Hugg'd  and  embraced  by  the  strumpet-wind ; 
How  like  the  prodigal  doth  she  return, 
With  over-weather'd  sides  and  ragged  sails- 
Lean,  rent,  and  beggar'd  by  the  strumpet-wind." 

Here  you  have  Shakespeare  naming  in  so  many  words 
both  the  objects — the  prodigal  and  the  gay  ship.  This, 
then,  is  a  simile.  But  con  next  Gray's  depicting  of  the 
wretched  fate  of  King  Richard  II.  of  England.  It  is  an 
allegory.  The  king  himself,  the  object  represented,  is 
not  named — but  only  the  object  representing: 

"  Fair  laughs  the  morn,  and  soft  the  zephyr  blows, 

While  proudly  riding  o'er  the  azure  realm, 
In  gallant  trim  the  gilded  vessel  goes, 
•  Youth  on  the  prow,  and  Pleasure  at  the  helm; 
Regardless  of  the  sweeping  whirlwind's  sway, 
That,  hush'd  in  grim  repose,  expects  his  evening  prey." 

As  the  sight  is  the  most  lively  and  distinct  of  the 
senses;  as  it  includes,  too,  so  wide  and  varied  a  range 
of  objects  fair  and  magnificent,  you  will  soon  discover 
that  many  of  the  best  similes  are  drawn  from  objects  of 
sight.  As,  too,  it  is,  generally  speaking,  easier  to  appre- 
hend what  is  outward  and  visible  than  what  is  inward 
and  unseen,  hence  material  things  are  usually  brought 
to  illustrate  the  things  of  the  mind.  Happy  instances, 
however,  can  be  quoted  of  things  outward  illustrated  by 
things  inward.  Thus  Scott,  of  Loch  Katrine,  in  his  ex- 
quisite "  Lady  of  the  Lake  :" 

"  The  mountain  shadows  on  her  breast 
Were  neither  broken  nor  at  rest; 
In  bright  uncertainty  they  lie, 
Like  future  joys  to  Fancy's  eye." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  1 79 

So  Tennyson,  of  mists  from  mountain  torrents  : 

"  Those  thousand  wreaths  of  dangling  water-smoke, 
That  like  a  broken  purpose  waste  in  air." 

Or  from  the  often  too  dim,  dreamy,  metaphysical 
Shelley: 

"  Our  boat  is  asleep  on  Terchio's  stream ; 
Its  sails  are  folded  like  thoughts  in  a  dream." 

Similarly,  in  Mrs.  Osgood's  "  Daughter  of  Herodias," 
Herod's  banqueting-room  is  thus  described: 

"  The  vast  and  magnificent  banqueting-room 
Was  of  marble,  Egyptian  in  form  and  in  gloom, 
And  around  wild  and  dark  as  a  demon's  dread  thought." 

Charles  Dudley  Warner,  in  his  principal  work,  "  Back- 
log Studies,"  contributes  another,  when  he  says  that  a 
great  wood-fire  in  a  wide  kitchen-chimney,  with  all  the 
pots  boiling  and  bubbling,  and  a  roasting-spit  turning 
in  front  of  it — 

"  Makes  a  person  as  hungry  as  does  one  of  Scott's  novels.5' 

This  sort  of  simile  is  apt  to  be  dim  to  common  people. 
Mark  how  numerous  Henry  Ward  Beecher's  are  of  the 
other  sort;  how  he  obtains  them  by  the  hundred  from 
objects  commoner  than  common ;  how  level  they  are  to 
the  unlearned.  Such  suit  the  pulpit  best;  what  a  de- 
lightful surprise  to  find  the  noblest  and  most  beautiful  in 
the  most  prosaic  haunts.  Would  that  our  preachers  cul- 
tivated the  art  and  power  of  illustration  by  similitudes, 
especially  from  homely  things.  A  single  bunch,  from 
loftier  sources,  by  Burns : 

"  Ah,  pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread — 
You  seize  the  flower,  the  bloom  is  shed ; 
Or  like  the  borealis  race, 
That  flit  ere  you  can  point  their  place; 


180         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Or  like  the  snow  falls  in  the  river, 
A  moment  white — then  dark  forever; 
Or  like  the  rainbow's  lovely  form, 
Evanishing  amid  the  storm." 

The  distinguished  Greek  critic,  Longinus,  who  writes 
so  sublimely  of  the  sublime,  couches  his  opinion  of  the 
"  Odyssey"  in  two  noble  similitudes: 

"  In  the  '  Odyssey'  Homer  may  be  likened  to  the  setting  sun, 
whose  grandeur  'still  remains,  though  his  beams  have  lost  their 
meridian  heat." 

After  a  little  he  adds— 

"  Like  the  ocean,  whose  shores  when  deserted  by  the  tide 
mark  out  the  extent  to  which  it  sometimes  flows,  so  Homer's 
genius,  when  ebbing  into  the  fables  of  the  '  Odyssey,'  plainly 
discovers  how  vast  it  once  must  have  been." 

What  an  unexpected  stroke  of  originality  we  meet 
with  in  Jean  Paul  Richter: 

"The  smallest  children  are  nearest  to  God,  as  the  smallest 
planets  are  nearest  the  sun." 

Mrs.  Radcliffe,  who  was  never  out  of  England,  in  Chap- 
ter XVI.  of  her  famous  "  Mysteries  of  Udolfo,"  thus  de- 
scribes, with  an  accuracy  that  has  been  wondered  at,  the 
appearance  of  Venice: 

"  Its  terraces,  crowded  with  airy  yet  majestic  fabrics,  touched 
as  they  now  were  with  the  splendors  of  the  setting  sun,  ap- 
peared as  if  they  had  been  called  up  from  the  ocean  by  the 
wand  of  an  enchanter." 

It  is  an  interesting  form  of  this  figure,  too,  when,  after 
the  points  of  resemblance,  the  point  or  points  of  dissimil- 
itude are  stated,  as  thus  in  Anthony  Trollope's  "  Three 
Clerks,"  Chapter  XIII. ;  excellent,  as  are  all  his  novels: 

"  New  friends,  like  one's  best  coat  and  polished  patent-leather 
boots,  are  only  intended  for  holiday  wear.  At  other  times  they 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  1 8 1 

are  neither  serviceable  nor  comfortable;  they  do  not  answer 
the  required  purposes,  and  are  ill  adapted  to  give  us  the  ease 
we  seek.  A  new  coat,  however,  has  this  advantage,  that  in  time 
it  will  become  old  and  comfortable;  so  much  can  by  no  means 
be  predicated  with  certainty  of  a  new  friend." 

Let  the  student  of  style  reflect  how  often  such  stating 
of  a  dissimile  may  be  impressive.  Let  us  also  recom- 
mend strongly  Anthony  Trollope's  female  characters ; 
and  his  English  style,  admirably  accurate. 

We  have  been  eagerly  lauding  Beecher's  homely  sim- 
iles ;  no  more  perfect  instance  can  be  found  of  the  effect- 
ive use  of  such  than  in  the  following  by  Miss  Charlotte 
Young,  on  "  Evening:" 

"  How  like  a  tender  mother, 

With  loving  thoughts  beguiled, 
Fond  Nature  seems  to  lull  to  rest 

Each  faint  and  weary  child  ! 
Drawing  the  curtain  tenderly, 

Affectionate  and  mild. 

.    "  Hark  to  the  gentle  lullaby 

.That  through  the  trees  is  creeping — 
Those  sleepy  trees  that  nod  their  heads 
Ere  the  moon  as  yet  comes  peeping, 
Like  a  tender  nurse,  to  see  if  all 
Her  little  ones  are  sleeping." 

This  other  comparison  accept  of,  from  a  work  still 
celebrated  in  the  history  of  English  literature,  the  "  Eu- 
phues"  of  John  Lyly.  If  he  had  always  written  as  fol- 
lows, his  work  would  not  have  become  a  synonym  for 
affectation  in  style: 

"  I  have  read  of  Themistocles,  which,  having  offended  Philip, 
the  King  of  Macedonia,  and  could  no  way  appease  his  anger, 
meeting  his  young  son,  Alexander,  took  him  in  his  arms,  and 
met  Philip  in  the  face.  Philip,  seeing  the  smiling  countenance 
of  the  child,  was  well  pleased  with  Themistocles.  Even  so,  if 
through  thy  manifold  sins  and  heinous  offenses  thou  provoke 


1 82          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

the  heavy  displeasure  of  thy  God,  inasmuch  as  thou  shalt  trem- 
ble for  horror,  take  his  only-begotten  and  well-beloved  Son, 
Jesus,  in  thine  arms,  and  then  He  neither  can  nor  will  be  angry 
with  thee." 

We  betake  us  for  another  bunch  of  flowers  to  James 
Joseph  Callanan,  on  the  Loch  of  Gougaune  Barra,  Coun- 
ty Cork,  Ireland : 

"  There  grows  the  wild  ash,  and  a  time-stricken  willow 
Looks  chidingly  down  on  the  mirth  of  the  billow; 
As  like  some  gay  child,  that  sad  monitor  scorning, 
It  lightly  laughs  back  to  the  laugh  of  the  morning; 
And  the  waters  rush  down  'mid  the  thunder's  deep  rattle, 
Like  clans  from  their  hills  at  the  voice  of  the  battle." 

W.  W.  Fosdick  paints  thus  a  scene  in  a  maize  field- 
very  American ;  be  sure  not  to  leave  out  of  your  view 
the  haze  on  the  hills : 

"  A  thin  veil  hangs  over  the  landscape  and  flood, 

And  the  hills  are  all  mellow'd  in  haze; 
While  Fall,  creeping  on  like  a  monk  in  his  hood, 
Plucks  the  thick  rustling  wealth  of  the  maize." 

Two  remarks  in  conclusion.  First,  the  distinction  be- 
tween the  form  and  the  essence  of  the  poetic — its  body 
and  its  soul.  A  long  controversy  has  prevailed  as  to 
what  constitutes  poetry ;  from  the  vain  endeavor  to  ex- 
press, by  one  word,  the  internal  spirit  and  the  external 
form.  This  can  not  be  done ;  let  there  be  two  words 
carefully  kept  apart.  Ossian  has  the  soul  of  poetry  with- 
out the  rhyme  and  rhythm  ;  Sternhold  and  Hopkins,  in 
their  wretched  versions  of  the  Psalms,  have  the  form 
without  the  imagination,  the  fancy,  or  the  inspired  glow. 
In  this  volume  we  purposely  designate  the  inward  as 
Poesy — the  outward  as  Poetry;  and  the  obscurity  at 
once  is  gone.  For  a  subject  will  be  kept  in  perpetual 
obscurity  and  confusion  by  the  lack  of  a  sufficiently  rich 
and  precise  nomenclature.  One  fit  word  can  dissipate  a 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  183 

thousand  mists.  Truth  is  retarded  piteously  by  men's 
not  having  the  right  word,  or  not  knowing  how  aright 
to  use  the  words  they  have. 

Finally,  we  have  hinted  at  many  of  the  deeper  sources 
of  simile;  and  of  all  those  figures  that  rest  on  resem- 
blance. We  have  not  referred  to  the  deepest  source  of 
all.  We  state  it  now  very  briefly.  If  one  writer  pen 
"  Paradise  Lost "  and  "  Paradise  Regained,"  many  re- 
semblances it  will  be  possible  to  detect  between  the  two. 
But  outward  nature  and  mental  nature  are  from  the  same 
author — the  One  great  Thinker  and  Poet,  who  hath  de- 
veloped his  divine  ideas  on  sky  and  sea ;  on  conscience, 
heart,  and  intellect ;  a  basis,  God-given,  whereon  to  rest 
those  similitudes  on  which  rhetoric  rests  ;  and  which  ren- 
der rhetoric  vivid,  the  servant  of  truth,  and  accordant 
with  the  Deity.  Low,  shallow  views  have  degraded  our 
subject ;  yet,  manifestly,  it  reaches  up  to  God.  Ponder 
this  for  life.  Atheism,  into  whatsoever  literary  field  it 
intrudes,  brings  with  it  the  narrow,  shallow,  and  degrad- 
ing. No  theme  can  reach  its  highest,  or  attain  its  apo- 
theosis, till  it  reaches  the  feet  of  God.  We  laugh  there- 
fore at  the  idea  that  our  atheists  can  sneer  Religion  from 
her  throne.  They  may  as  easily  sneer  away  the  dews, 
the  mountains,  or  the  dawn. 


184  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

FIGURES    OF   RHETORIC. 
PART    THIRD. 

The  Metaphor. 

XXXVI.  THE  Metaphor  next  introduces  itself.  Let 
us  take  you  to  hear  old  Father  Taylor  preach.  He  is 
trying  to  give  his  congregation  an  idea  of  redemption. 
He  described  a  terrific  storm  at  sea,  rising  to  greater  and 
wilder  fury;  amid  the  weltering  waves  a  vessel  is  seen 
laboring  in  distress,  and  driving  on  a  lee  shore  ;  the  masts 
bend,  break,  go  overboard  ;  the  sails  are  rent ;  the  helm 
unshipped ;  the  vessel  begins  to  fill ;  she  sinks  deeper, 
deeper: 

"  But  what  do  I  see  yonder !  Through  the  mist  I  see  it. 
That  flash  of  lightning  has  shown  it  to  me.  A  life-boat ! — a 
life-boat !  Christ  is  that  life-boat !" 

"Christ  is  like  that  life-boat "  is  a  simile.  "  Christ  is  that 
life-boat."  is  far  stronger;  an  expression  not  of  resem- 
blance, but  of  identity;  it  is  a  metaphor;  shorter,  stron- 
ger, a  flash  of  thought.  That  quick  flash  is  delightful : 
condensation  of  mental  power;  bolt  of  the  Jove-like 
mind.  Or  listen  to  Ebenezer  Elliott ;  in  essence,  simile  ; 
in  utterance  and  feeling,  more : 

"  O  lift  the  workman's  heart  and  mind 

Above  low,  sensual  sin  ! 
Give  him  a  home,  the  home  of  taste ; 
Outbid  the  house  of  gin. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  185 

O  give  him  taste  !     It  is  the  link 

Which  binds  us  to  the  skies ; 
A  bridge  of  rainbows  thrown  across 

The  gulf  of  tears  and  sighs." 

In  metaphor,  the  subject  of  which  the  metaphorical 
affirmation  is  made  is  always  taken  literally;  the  meta- 
phor lies  wholly  in  the  copula  or  verb,  which  asserts 
something  of  the  subject  that  is  not  literally  proper  to 
the  nature  of  that  subject : 

"  Judah  is  a  lion's  whelp." 

Here  Judah  is  taken  literally,  as  is  always  the  subject 
spoken  of;  all  the  metaphor  lies,  not  in  the  subject  and 
just  as  little  in  the  predicate  "  lion's  whelp,"  which 
means  something,  and  that  something  is  precisely  what 
it  expresses,  but  in  "  is,"  the  mind  being  strongly  affect- 
ed by  some  points  of — what  ?  why,  of  resemblance ;  so 
as  to  use  the  verb  "  is"  instead  of  the  more  cautious  and 
measured  verb  "resembles;"  which  verb  "resembles" 
would  be  truer  to  the  matter  of  fact,  but,  mark  it  well, 
not  nearly  so  true  to  the  matter  of  feeling.  How  wise 
the  principle,  how  deep  the  condemnation  in  Lamar- 
tine's  critique  on  Thiers's  "  History  of  the  Consulate  and 
the  Empire :" 

"Man  is  every  where  evident  in  this  history;  God  is  no- 
where. M.  Thiers's  book  is  a  landscape  without  a  sky." 

The  two  objects,  "  book "  and  "  landscape  without  a 
sky,"  mean  exactly  what  they  express;  else  the  assertion 
means  no  one  can  tell  what.  The  whole  figure  lies  in 
the  verb ;  which  is  used  instead  of  the  milder  verb  "  re- 
sembles." Some  have  taken  the  ground  that  it  is  a  pe- 
culiarity of  the  Hebrew  to  use  "  is  "  for  "  represents." 
We  take  the  wider  and  far  more  philosophical  ground — 
it  is  a  peculiarity  and  an  absolute  necessity  of  the  uni- 
versal human  mind : 

"  This  is  my  body." 


1 86         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

If  these  words  teach  a  change,  they  must  say  so — "This 
is  changed  into  my  body."  As  they  stand,  they  express 
a  figure  the  most  common  in  human  language.  "This" 
is  taken  literally;  "  my  body"  is  taken  literally;  all  the 
figure  lies  in  "  is ;"  and  for  "  is  "  to  mean  "  represents  "  is 
nothing  more  than  the  great  and  every-where-spread 
usage  of  the  common  figure  called  metaphor;  whereas 
for  "  is."  to  mean  "  changed  into  "  is  altogether  unknown 
and  violent.  Ponder  this  carefully;  we  can  not  linger 
on  it.  The  correct  doctrine  of  the  metaphor  sweeps  the 
doctrine  of  transubstantiation  out  of  the  Scriptures. 

Hare,  speaking  of  atheism,  couches  much  argument 
in  the  following — and  atheism  lies  at  the  other  extreme 
from  what  we  have  just  been  looking  at  in  transubstan- 
tiation : 

"  There  is  no  being  eloquent  for  atheism.  In  that  exhaust- 
ed receiver  the  mind  can  not  use  its  wings." 

Washington  Irving  met  Sir  Walter.  The  classical 
American  told  the  North  Briton  that  Campbell  was  kept 
from  writing  by  the  superior  brilliancy  of  Byron's  poetry 
and  of  his,  Scott's.  To  this  Scott,  free  from  envy  as  he 
was  always,  replied : 

"Pooh!  How  can  Campbell  mistake  the  matter  so  much? 
Poetry  goes  by  quality,  not  by  quantity  or  bulk.  My  poems 
are  mere  cairngorms,  wrought  up  perhaps  with  a  cunning  hand, 
and  may  pass  well  in  the  market  so  long  as  cairngorms  are 
in  fashion  ;  but  they  are  mere  Scotch  pebbles  after  all.  Now 
Campbell's  are  real  diamonds,  and  of  the  first  water." 

Mark  ever  in  the  metaphor  how  the  mental  glow  acts 
on  the  connecting  verb.  And  as  the  rapidity  and  force 
are  greater,  so,  better  far  than  in  the  simile,  the  meta- 
phor at  times  suits  the  orator,  and  that  tone  of  unpre- 
meditated earnestness  which  dreams  not  of  ornamenta- 
tion, but  solely  of  the  subject  itself.  There  is  not  in  all 
the  speeches  of  Demosthenes  a  single  simile.  S.,  "Cori- 
olanus,"  act  iv.,  scene  v.,  line  3,  of  Aufidius's  4th  speech. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  187 

Metaphors  are  direct — that  is,  founded  on  a  resem- 
blance between  the  things  themselves ;  as  when  you  say, 
"  The  ways  are  mountains  in  their  height ;"  or  they  are 
analogical,  that  is,  founded  on  the  fact  that  the  two  ob- 
jects mentioned  bear  resembling  relations  to  certain 
other  objects;  thus,  when  you  say  "Reason  is  a  guiding 
light,"  you  proceed  on  the  idea  that  reason  bears  a  sim- 
ilar relation  to  the  mental  world  that  light  does  to  the 
outward  world.  As  such  analogies,  or  analogical  rela- 
tions, are  altogether  innumerable,  it  is  arithmetically  im- 
possible that  true  genius  can  ever  find  its  materials  run 
out.  Then,  since  the  more  unlike  two  objects  are,  the 
more  is  the  mind  exhilarated  with  a  sweet  surprise  by 
the  discovery  made  to  it  of  a  point  in  which  these  ap- 
parently so  unrelated  objects  do  really  agree,  it  follows 
that  analogical  metaphors  and  similes  must  often  give 
more  pleasure  than  direct  ones,  as  when  Trench,  in  his 
admirable  work  on  the  "  Parables,"  says: 

"  Language  is  the  amber  in  which  a  thousand  precious 
thoughts  have  been  safely  imbedded  and  preserved." 

No  similarity  between  language  in  itself,  and  amber  in 
itself;  but  they  have  resembling  uses,  or  may  produce 
resembling  effects. 

Holy  Writ,  what  a  storehouse  of  metaphors !  If  it 
were  worth  reading  on  no  other  account,  it  would  be 
well  worth  reading  for  its  metaphors  alone.  A  vast 
treasury  of  the  beautiful  as  well  as  of  the  true.  Gather 
a  hundred  from  it,  and  a  hundred  similes  from  it.  The 
poet  cries: 

"  Hide  me  under  the  shadow  of  Thy  wings  !" 

Behold  yon  mountain-eagle ;  a  mother's  tenderness  ani- 
mating the  bird ;  covering  on  an  exposed  crag  its  nest- 
ling with  its  wings,  when  darkness  lowers,  when  light- 
nings threat.  Jehovah  is  the  Parent-eagle  of  the  soul ; 
the  warmth  of  his  parental  wings  makes  this  life,  which 


1 88          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

but  for  him  were  an  exposed  crag,  a  home  of  love  and 
safety.     Luke  xxii.,  19,  20. 

One  of  the  main  truths  in  the  sweet  science  of  poesy  is 
that  very  much  of  the  poetic  lies  in  the  vivid  perceiving 
of  relations  between  the  world  of  matter  and  the  thoughts 
or  feelings  of  the  mind.  Hence  our  great  bards  place 
in  a  scene  of  inward  passion,  or  near  those  who  are  en- 
joying great  delights,  or  who  are  suffering  from  dark 
sorrows,  some  outward  object,  which  we  feel  to  harmon- 
ize with  what  brightens  or  darkens  in  the  soul.  In  noth- 
ing that  you  can  specify  do  lofty  genius  and  ideality  more 
strikingly  display  themselves.  In  Shakespeare's  "  Lear," 
the  lightning  is  made  to  burn,  the  pitiless  tempest  to 
rave,  around  the  bare,  discrowned  head  of  the  king,  so 
old  and  so  desolate.  In  "  Paradise  Lost,"  happy  Eve  is 
bowered  all  around  by  budding  and  blushing  roses,  and 
by  each  lush  flower  of  graceful  stalk,  which  seem  as  if 
they  had  caught  their  graceful  waving  and  their  brill- 
iancy of  tint,  from  the  elegant  form  and  delicate  blush 
of  their  young  May-queen.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
the  first  sin  volcanoes  out  its  way,  Milton  tells  us,  with 
the  deepest  poetic  truth : 

"  Sky  lowered ;  and,  muttering  thunder,  some  sad  drops 
Wept  at  completing  of  the  mortal  sin.'5 

Sir  Walter  Scott  places  the  wild  enthusiast,  Balfour  of 
Burley,  in  a  gloomy  cave,  amid  overhanging  crags,  and 
over  the  bed  of  a  river,  dark  in  its  rushing,  and  tortured 
among  pitiless  rocks.  When  in  the  same  wondrous  nov- 
el, "  Old  Mortality,"  Morton  is  doomed  to  death  by  an 
extreme  sect  of  the  Covenanters,  they  place  him  be- 
fore a  clock,  to  watch  the  approach  of  its  hands  to  the 
fatal  minute  fixed  for  his  death ;  and  the  light  tick  of 
the  clock  thrills  on  his  ear,  with  such  painful  distinctness 
as  if  each  sound  were  the  prick  of  a  bodkin  on  the  naked 
nerve  of  the  organ  of  hearing.  On  the  same  great  prin- 
ciple that  there  is  an  analogy  between  the  outward  and 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  189 

the  mental,  in  the  delightful  old  ballads,  when  two  lov- 
ers are  buried  near  each  other,  the  following  lovely  mir- 
acle occurs: 

"  Lord  William  was  buried  in  Marie's  kirk, 

Lady  Margaret  in  Marie's  quire; 
From  the  ladie's  grave  grew  a  red,  red  rose, 

And  out  o'  the  knicht's  a  brier. 
And  they  twa  met,  and  they  twa  plat, 

Sae  fain  they  wud  be  near ; 
And  a'  the  warld  micht  ken  richt  weel, 

They  were  twa  lovers  dear." 

But  our  field  of  vision  changes;  we  open  the  "  Samson 
Agonistes"  of  Milton  :  a  drama  sternly  plain,  as  if  hewn 
in  Parian  marble,  worthy  of  ^Eschylus,  him  earlier  than 
Sophocles  and  Euripides,  the  other  two  great  tragedians 
of  Greece.  The  "  Samson  "  is  moulded  very  much  on 
the  Greek  model ;  breathes  the  very  tone  of  the  Greek 
genius ;  yet,  very  singular  to  say,  is  full-fra,ught  with  the 
Hebrew  spirit  of  worship,  contrition,  and  the  prophetic; 
as  though  we  heard  the  harp  of  Isaiah  struck  on  a  hill- 
side of  Arcady :  a  blending  of  the  classical  and  the  ador- 
ing, which  who  hath  attained  so  greatly  as  Milton.  John 
Milton  is  the  unsurpassed ;  the  great  Puritan  and  repub- 
lican poet,  of  whom  Wordsworth  said,  in  a  line  that  is  a 
proverb : 

"  His  soul  was  like  a  star,  and  dwelt  apart." 

In  his  youth  he  was  so  fair  and  beautiful  as  to  be  called 
the  Lady  of  his  college.  Latin  secretary  to  Oliver  Crom- 
well, after  the  restoration  of  Charles  II.  he  lived  in  close 
retirement,  hated  by  the  party  in  power;  Samuel  John- 
son, a  hundred  years  after,  detested  him.  As  he  grew 
older,  he  entirely  lost  his  sight ;  to  his  daughters  was 
dictated  the  "  Paradise  Lost,"  incomparably  the  world's 
most  sublime  poem.  Hear  two  verdicts  on  him.  Said 
Waller  the  poet: 


190          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"The  old  blind  schoolmaster,  John  Milton,  hath  published 
a  tedious  poem  on  the  fall  of  man;  if  its  length  be  not  consid- 
ered as  merit,  it  hath  no  other." 

Next  let  Dryden  decide,  referring  to  Homer  and  Virgil ; 
but  Dryden's  greater  third  was  Milton: 

"  Two  poets  in  two  distant  ages  born 
Did  famous  Greece  and  Italy  adorn: 
Nature  exhausted  could  no  farther  go; 
To  make  a  third,  she  joined  the  other  two." 

Metaphor  supplies  us  with  abundant  proof  that  to 
write  well  we  need  to  fill  our  minds  with  facts.  Thus 
Bancroft,  in  his  "History  of  the  United  States" — elo- 
quent, impartial,  but  deficient  in  graceful  ease — is  helped 
by  his  botanical  knowledge  to  a  good  metaphor: 

"  Style  is  the  gossamer  on  which  the  seeds  of  truth  float 
through  the  world." 

Mark  how  science  here  ministers  to  poesy;  as  does  a 
sympathetic  familiarity  with,  not  the  hollow  shams,  but 
the  stern  realities,  of  human  life.  So  Gray,  looking  on 
schoolboys  at  their  sports,  prognosticates  the  fierce  pas- 
sions that  shall  tear  many  of  them  when  they  grow  to  be 
men : 

"  These  shall  the  fury  passions  tear — 
The  vultures  of  the  mind." 

Surface  views  of  man  and  his  career,  which  ignore  his 
depth  of  guilt,  his  intense  miseries,  may  seem  poetic; 
and  may  perchance  accord  best  with  the  tinkling  of  a 
lady's  guitar;  but  wherewithal  shall  be  fed  those  crises 
of  the  Tragic  without  which  the  genuine  poesy  can  not 
live  ?  The  dread  Bible  pictures  of  man,  with  their  abys- 
mal glooms  and  their  heaven-piercing  heights — their  in- 
ward hells  and  heavens — will,  strange  to  say,  suggest  ten 
thousand  metaphors,  and  of  a  far  nobler  sort,  for  one 
suggested  by  those  ideas  of  man  which  ascribe  to  him, 
as  his  destiny,  a  voluptuary's  opium-dream  or  a  trifler's 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  1 9 1 

"butterfly  flight.    Nothing  so  poetical,  romantic,  and  epic 
as  is  the  severely  true. 

For  a  minute  let  us  seek  relief  in  a  few  metaphors 
very  brief  and  sparkling.  From  Douglas  Jerrold  these: 

"  Contentment  is  the  poor  man's  bank." 

"  In  the  wedding-cake,  Hope  is  the  sweetest  of  the  plums." 

"  Military  glory  is  a  bubble  blown  from  blood." 

Of  a  very  tall  gentleman  dancing  with  a  very  dumpy 
lady: 

"  There's  the  mile  dancing  with  the  mile-stone." 
Washington  Irving  gives  this  : 

"  A  scolding  woman's  tongue  is  the  only  edge-tool  that  grows 
sharper  by  constant  use." 

Roundell  Palmer,  in  his  choice  selection  of  hymns, 
"  The  Book  of  Praise,"  terms  the  sacred  paintings  of  the 
early  painters — 

"The  hymns  of  painters  addressed  to  the  sense  of  sight." 

Alexander  Smith  has  equaled  Tennyson  in  finish,  in 
delicacy  of  touch,  in  pellucid  clearness,  as  witness  his 
admirable  tale,  "  Deira."  Of  the  clouds,  he  says: 

"The  changing  clouds, 
The  playful  fancies  of  the  mighty  sky." 

And  again — 

"I've  learned  to  prize  the  quiet  lightning  deed; 
Not  the  applauding  thunder  at  its  heels, 
Which  men  call  fame." 

Of  an  infant  he  thus  writes : 

"  O  thou  bright  thing,  fresh  from  the  hand  of  God ! 
The  motions  of  thy  dancing  limbs  are  swayed 
By  the  unceasing  music  of  thy  being  ! 
Nearer  I  seem  to  God  when  looking  on  thee. 


192          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

'Tis  ages  since  he  made  his  youngest  star — 
His  hand  was  on  thee  as  'twere  yesterday — 
Thou  later  revelation  !     Silver  stream 
Breaking  with  laughter  from  the  Lake  Divine, 
Whence  all  things  flow." 

From  Byron  is  this,  of  man :  „ 

"  Thou  pendulum  between  a  smile  and  tear." 

Let  this  quotation  cause  us  to  follow  Mr.  Trelawney 
to  a  pitying  visit  to  Byron's  corpse,  as  he  lies  dead  at 
Missolonghi,  in  the  noble  cause  of  Greek  Independence. 
Byron  was  then  at  the  early  age  of  thirty-seven : 

"  No  one  was  in  the  house  but  Fletcher,  who  withdrew  the 
black  pall  and  the  white  shroud;  and  there  lay  the  embalmed 
body  of  the  pilgrim — more  beautiful  even  in  death  than  in  life. 
The  contraction  of  the  skin  and  muscles  had  effaced  every  line 
traced  by  time  or  passion;  few  marble  busts  could  have  matched 
its  stainless  white,  the  harmony  of  its  proportions,  and  its  per- 
fect finish.  Yet  he  had  been  dissatisfied  with  that  body,  and 
longed  to  cast  its  slough.  How  often  have  I  heard  him  curse 
it.  I  asked  Fletcher  to  bring  me  a  glass  of  water;  and  on  his 
leaving  the  room,  to  confirm  or  remove  my  doubts  as  to  the 
cause  of  his  lameness,  I  uncovered  the  pilgrim's  feet,  and  was 
answered — both  his  feet  were  clubbed,  and  the  legs  withered 
to  the  knee  :  the  form  and  face  of  an  Apollo,  with  the  feet  and 
legs  of  a  sylvan  satyr." 

Well  may  the  sad  name  of  Byron  bring  to  mind  the 
great  line  of  Campbell — which  Sir  Walter  called  "  the 
most  beautiful  and  original  simile  "  (he  should  have  said, 
metaphor)  "  which  we  have  yet  found  applied  to  a  theme 
so  often  sung:" 

"  In  the  fond  visions  of  romantic  youth 

What  years  of  endless  bliss  are  yet  to  flow; 
But,  Mortal  Pleasure,  what  art  thou  in  truth  ? 
The  torrent's  smoothness  ere  it  dash  below." 

When  Campbell  was  a  student  at  Glasgow  University, 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  193 

of  which  he  afterward  was  chosen  Lord  Rector,  there 
stood  next  door  to  each  other  on  the  street  he  passed 
along  in  going  to  his  classes,  the  store  of  A.  Fyfe,  an  au- 
rist,  and  of  a  Mr.  Drum,  a  seller  of  ardent  spirits.  Camp- 
bell and  some  other  students  took  down  the  sign-boards 
of  the  two  neighbors  during  a  dark  night,  and  put  up  in 
their  stead  a  board  on  which  they  had  painted  the  well- 
known  line  from  Shakespeare : 

"  The  spirit-stirring  Drum,  the  ear-piercing  Fyfe." 

Sir  Thomas  Browne,  a  learned  physician  and  very 
quaint  writer,  is  justly  renowned  through  the  potency 
of  a  single  metaphor: 

"Light  that  makes  things  seen,  makes  some  things  invisible. 
Were  it  not  for  darkness  and  the  shadow  of  the  earth,  the 
noblest  part  of  creation  had  remained  unseen,  and  the  stars  in 
heaven  invisible.  The  greatest  mystery  of  religion  is  expressed 
by  adumbration;  and  in  the  noblest  parts  of  Jewish  types  we 
find  the  cherubim  shadowing  the  mercy-seat.  The  sun  itself  is 
but  the  dark  simulacrum — and  light  is  but  the  shadow  of  God." 

Connected  with  our  subject,  which  by  this  time  you 
feel  to  be  no  trivial  one,  is  Henry  T.  Tuckerman's  theme, 
the  Poetical  Principle : 

"  It  is  the  breeze  that  lifts  the  weeds  on  the  highway  of  time, 
and  brings  to  view  the  violets  beneath.  It  is  the  holy  water 
which,  sprinkled  on  the  Mosaic  pavement  of  life,  makes  vivid 
its  brilliant  tints.  It  is  the  mystic  harp  upon  whose  strings 
the  confused  murmur  of  toil,  gladness,  and  grief  loses  itself  in 
music.  But  it  performs  a  yet  higher  function  than  that  of  con- 
solation. It  is  through  the  poetical  principle  that  we  form  im- 
ages of  excellence,  a  notion  of  progress,  that  quickens  every 
other  faculty  to  rich  endeavor." 

As  in  this  work  we  must  perforce  deal  so  much  in  bits 
and  scintillations,  we  quote  from  Hudson's  very  able 
"  Lectures  on  Shakespeare  "  a  necessary  caution : 

"  I  agree  with  old  Montaigne  that  every  abridgment  of  a  good 

N 


194         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

work  is  foolish.  For  a  genuine  literary  work  is  not  a  collection 
of  wheat  and  chaff,  to  be  winnowed  before  it  is  fit  for  use,  but  a 
living  tree,  covered  with  leaves  and  buds  and  blossoms;  cut  it 
up  for  its  beauties,  and  all  is  but  chips.  Or,  to  vary  the  figure, 
such  a  work  is  not  a  mere  articulation  of  parts,  dovetailed  to- 
gether grossly  or  closely,  according  to  the  dullness  or  ingenuity 
of  the  artisan,  but  an  organic  growth  like  the  human  form,  shap- 
ing and  fashioning  itself  out  into  an  individual  whole ;  and  it  is 
the  breathing  harmony,  the  eloquent  physiognomy  of  the  whole, 
that  forms  its  beauty  and  its  worth.  Selecting  beauties  from 
such  a  work  is  as  foolish  and  almost  as  wicked  as  plucking  out 
a  lady's  eye,  and  showing  it  to  us  that  we  may  the  better  appre- 
ciate her  beaut^.  If  the  lady  were  no  lady  at  all,  but  merely 
an  automaton  with  glass  eyes,  all  this  might  be  well  enough, 
for  in  that  case  there  would  be  no  life  or  expression  to  be  lost; 
but  as  it  is,  the  very  life  and  living  grace  which  made  the  di- 
vine beauty  of  this  soul-speaking  organ  has  been  destroyed  by 
the  separation." 

To  appreciate  good  metaphors  we  need  to  look  at  a 
few  bad  ones.  Saith  Addison,  whose  own  Spectator,  No. 
595,  is  law  on  this  subject : 

"I  bridle  in  my  struggling  Muse  with  pain, 
That  longs  to  launch  into  a  bolder  strain." 

It  is  a  wise  rule,  in  regard  to  this  and  to  many  an- 
other figure,  never  to  mix  or  jumble  together  two  that 
are  discordant.  Yet  his  Muse  is  a  lady  and  a  goddess. 
Addison,  however,  speaks  of  having  bridled  her — atro- 
cious unpoliteness.  It  will  not  do  to  tell  us  that  it  is  Peg- 
asus he  was  thinking  of;  for  Pegasus  nor  any  other  horse 
was  one  of  the  nine  Muses.  But,  not  content  with  re- 
garding his  goddess  as  a  horse,  he  instantly  views  her  as 
a  ship  that  longs  to  launch  itself,  and,  of  all  places  in  the 
world,  into  a  strain — a  horse  that  longs  to  break  out  a 
singing !  which  inclination  to  break  out  a  singing  is  to 
be  kept  in  check  by  a  bridle.  Yet  Addison  himself  has 
given  us  an  excellent  test  to  try  metaphors  by : 

"  Try  and  form  a  picture  on  them." 


Figiires  of  Rhetoric.  195 

If  the  parts,  when  pictured  out  by  a  painter,  be  incon- 
gruous, put  your  metaphor  in  the  fire ;  lest  there  should 
stand  before  you  a  goddess,  horse,  and  ship,  all  in  one. 
We  betake  ourselves  to  Robert  Montgomery : 

"  And  shall  the  soul,  the  fount  of  reason,  die, 
When  dust  and  ashes  round  its  temple  lie?" 
Did  God  breathe  in  it  no  etherial  fire, 
Dimless  and  quenchless,  though  the  breath  expire  ? 

He  asks  whether  a  fountain  can  die.  One  would  think 
he  need  be  in  no  great  anxiety  on  that  account.  Then 
what  can  he  mean  by  the  temple  of  a  fountain  ?  And 
how  can  fire  be  breathed  into  a  fountain  ?  Besides,  what 
may  the  breath  of  a  fountain  be  ? 

The  idolatry  of  conceits  infected  much  of  English  lit- 
erature from  Surrey  to  Dryden's  middle  age.  John 
Lyly,  "  the  Euphuist,"  being  its  high-priest,  though  the 
style  by  no  means  originated  with  him,  but  is  traceable 
to  an  Italian  influence.  Lyly's  work,  "  Euphues,  or  the 
Anatomy  of  Wit,"  was  published,  the  first  part  in  1579, 
the  second  part  in  1580,  and  went  through  ten  editions 
in  fifty-six  years.  It  is  a  novel  in  prose.  The  hero, 
Euphues,  is  an  Athenian  youth.  It  is  a  wiser  produc- 
tion than  is  generally  conceived  ;  but  its  cumbrous  affec- 
tations in  style,  and  its  lack  of  an  interesting  plot,  have 
sunk  it  in  oblivion.  Well  said  Ben  Jonson  in  his  "  Dis- 
coveries," which  is  the  earliest  exposition  in  English  of 
the  principles  of  sound  writing: 

"  Nothing  is  lasting  that  is  feigned;" 

precisely  what  this  book  in  your  hands  sets  forth  from 
beginning  to  end.  Nay,  Lyly  himself,  in  the  dedication 
to  his  work,  attacks  those  Englishmen — 

"  Who  desire  to  hear  finer  speech  than  the  language  will  al- 
low; to  eat  finer  bread  than  is  made  of  wheat;  or  wear  finer 
cloth  than  is  made  of  wool." 


196          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

The  rapidity  and  condensation  of  the  metaphor  are 
illustrated  in  the  clergyman's  remark,  who,  having  been 
once  addicted  to  bawling  in  the  pulpit,  had  at  last  made 
the  discovery  that  the  low  tones  are  the  most  effect- 
ual: 

"  I  once  thought  it  was  the  thunder  that  killed,  and  now  know 
it  is  the  lightning  that  does  the  execution.  I  mean  to  thunder 
less  and  lighten  more." 

Sir  Archibald  Alison,  the  historian  of  modern  Europe, 
leads  us  back  to  false  metaphors  once  more.  Of  the 
allied  sovereigns,  when  first  they  caught  sight  of  Paris  in 
1814,  he  asserts  that 

"  They  inhaled  the  entrancing  spectacle." 
Of  the  intrigues  in  Napoleon's  favor  at  Elba : 

"  The  inferior  officers  and  the  soldiers  of  the  army  were,  in 
an  especial  manner,  the  seat  of  this  conspiracy." 

And  again : 

"  He  did  not  establish  a  throne  surrounded  by  republican  in- 
stitutions, but  a  republic  surrounded  by  the  ghost  of  monarch- 
ical  institutions." 

As  when  the  brave  Irishman  led  his  three  captives  into 
his  general's  presence : 

"  How  did  you  take  them  ?"  said  his  general. — "  Faix,  I  sur- 
rounded them." 

How  to  surround  a  republic  by  a  ghost  is  a  problem  that 
would  have  puzzled  Euclid.  Besides,  here  are  many  in- 
stitutions that  have  but  one  ghost  among  them — a  small 
slice  of  a  ghost  to  each. 

Yet  be  this  caution  inserted,  else  criticism  will  be  a 
ruthless  scalping-knife :  When  a  figurative  expression  has 
been  current  so  long  as  to  have  lost  its  figurative  char- 
acter, we  must  not  urge  too  far  the  4<  catch-thief"  cry  of 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.'  197 

"mixed  metaphor!"  Shakespeare's  expression  is  much 
found  fault  with — 

"  To  take  arms  against  a  sea  of  troubles." 

But  not  one  only,  but  both  sides  of  the  phrase  have  lost 
the  figurative  sense ;  it  is  no  more  than  "  to  contend 
against  innumerable  troubles."  There  are  thus  three 
kinds  of  expressions :  many  wavering  between  the  figu- 
rative and  the  literal ;  many  whose  figurative  character 
is  worn  wholly  off;  many  decidedly  figurative.  The 
critic  must  not,  in  too  tiger-like  a  style,  tear  a  defenseless 
metaphor  to  pieces.  Yet  it  is  better  to  lean  to  virtue's 
side :  never  be  thine  a  far-fetched  ornament ;  be  your 
metaphors  founded  on  a  resemblance  that  is  clear  and 
striking  when  once  pointed  out ;  never  join  metaphor 
and  plain  language  in  such  a  way  that  part  of  your  state- 
ment must  be  understood  metaphorically  and  part  liter- 
ally; never  dwell  long  on  a  metaphor;  never  condescend 
to  any  that  is  threadbare  by  long  use;  their  charm  is 
rapidity,  freshness,  surprise ;  all  of  which  you  feel  in  this 
from  Jeremy  Taylor,  in  a  funeral  sermon : 

"  Her  heart  was  a  passion-flower,  bearing  within  it  the  crown 
of  thorns  and  the  cross  of  Christ." 

And  for  our  teachers  in  the  pulpit  is  this  special  passage 
from  Dr.  Guthrie : 

"  How  difficult  would  it  be  to  name  a  noble  figure,  a  sweet 
simile,  a  tender  or  attractive  relationship,  in  which  Jesus  is  not 
set  forth  to  woo  the  reluctant  sinner  and  cheer  the  desponding 
saint.  Am  I  wounded  ?  He  is  balm.  Am  I  sick  ?  He  is  med- 
icine. Am  I  poor  ?  He  is  wealth  ?  Am  I  hungry  ?  He  is  bread. 
Am  I  in  debt  ?  He  is  a  surety.  Am  I  thirsty  ?  He  is  water. 
Am  I  in  darkness  ?  He  is  a  sun.  Have  I  a  house  to  build  ?  He 
is  a  rock.  Must  I  face  the  black  and  gathering  storm  ?  He  is 
an  anchor,  sure  and  steadfast.  Am  I  to  be  tried?  He  is  an 
advocate.  Is  sentence  passed  and  am  I  condemned?  He  is 
pardon.  To  deck  him  out  and  set  him  forth,  Nature  culls  her 


198          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

finest  flowers,  brings  her  choicest  ornaments,  and  lays  her  treas- 
ures at  his  feet." 

This  being  so,  no  excuse  for  a  dry  sermon.  O  yes  !  as 
much  excuse  as  for  not  being  at  pains  enough  to  read  the 
Bible  well ;  the  volume,  intensely  eloquent',  which  sup- 
plies matter  for  the  noblest  elocution ;  but  which  we  lay- 
men are — shall  we  say  seldom — condemned  to  hear  read 
with  such  slovenly  carelessness  that  even  the  very  words 
are  blundered;  and  so,  when  we  hear  it  read  with  heav- 
en-born reverence,  and  with  emphasis  deep  as  a*whisper 
of  thunder,  or  gently  light  as  evening's  last  sigh,  we  look 
up  in  astonishment  from  our  pews,  wondering  who  this 
man  can  be  who  has  been  Christ-taught  to  read  it,  as 
suits  its  Author,  its  Hero,  its  Wielder,  its  truthfulness, 
its  passion,  its  calmness,  and  its  theme. 

By  the  time  this  page  has  been  reached,  every  reader 
feels  the  vast  importance  of  our  subject.  Think  of  the 
great  historical  words : 

"This  is  my  body." 

Ah,  the  tens  of  thousands  slaughtered  for  transubstan- 
tiation !  According  to  Protestantism  and  the  laws  of 
metaphor,  "this"  is  literal;  "body"  is  literal;  "is" 
stands  for  "  represents"  —a  sense  emphatically  given, 
which  it  has,  thousands  of  times.  According  to  the 
priests,  "this"  is  literal;  "body"  is  literal;  "is"  stands 
for  "  is  changed  into  " — a  sense  it  never  has.  Which  of 
the  two  parties  is  the  more  literal?  Our  subject  holds 
within  it  such  .  truths,  laws,  applications,  as  would,  by- 
God's  blessing,  have  saved  to  the  earth  much  of  the 
most  precious  blood ;  and  tortures  so  dire  in  their  cru- 
elty, so  cowardly  in  the  circumstances  of  their  infliction, 
that  at  the  recollection  of  them  History  blushes.  Is  our 
subject  trivial,  then  ?  Degraded  so  long  by  tame,  shal- 
low, thoroughly  unphilosophical  handling ! 

Permit  us  to  cool  our  indignation  by  launching  for 


Figures  of  .Rhetoric.  199 

a  moment,  like  Addison's  Muse  and  horse,  into  "  a 
strain;"  one  of  our  own: 

Moveless  for  ages,  see  vast  Erie  lying : 

At  length,  from  forth  its  rock-bound  bed,  the  lake 

Bours,  with  a  high  outbreak. 
In  terror  from  its  rush  see  thousands  flying ! 
Christ— Grace,  Love,  Life,  and  Light,  not  crushing  awe — 

Is  God's  Niagara ! 

We  now  lay  before  you  Professor  Lowell's  anathema 
of  old  John  Gower,  Chaucer's  contemporary.  In  this 
passage  are  several  good  specimens  of  both  metaphor 
and  simile : 

"  Gower  has  positively  raised  tediousness  to  the  precision  of 
a  science;  he  has  made  dullness  an  heir-loom  for  the  students 
of  our  literary  history.  As  you  slip  to  and  fro  on  the  frozen 
levels  of  his  verse,  which  give  no  foothold  to  the  mind;  as  your 
nervous  ear  awaits  the  inevitable  recurrence  of  his  rhyme,  reg- 
ularly pertinacious  as  the  tick  of  an  eight-day  clock,  and  re- 
minding you  of  Wordsworth's — 

'  Once  more  the  ass  did  lengthen  out 
The  hard,  dry  see-saw  of  his  horrible  bray,' 

you  learn  to  dread,  almost  to  respect,  the  powers  of  this  inde- 
fatigable man.  He  is  the  Undertaker  of  the  fair  mediaeval  le- 
gend; and  his  style  has  the  hateful  gloss,  the  seemingly  un- 
natural length,  of  a  coffin.  Love,  beauty,  passion,  nature,  art, 
life,  the  natural  and  the  theological  virtues — there  is  nothing 
beyond  his  power  to  disenchant ;  nothing  out  of  which  the  tre- 
mendous hydraulic  press  of  his  allegory  (or  whatever  it  is,  for 
I  am  not  sure  if  it  is  not  something  even  worse)  will  not  squeeze 
all  feeling  and  freshness,  and  leave  it  a  juiceless  jelly.  It  mat- 
ters not  where  you  try  him,  whether  his  story  be  Christian  or 
pagan,  borrowed  from  history  or  fable,  you  can  not  escape  him. 
Dip  in  at  the  middle  or  the  end,  dodge  back  to  the  beginning, 
the  patient  old  man  is  there,  to  take  you  by  the  button  and  go 
on  with  his  imperturbable  narrative.  You  may  have  left  off 
with  '  Clytemnestra,'  and  you  may  begin  again  with  '  Samson' 
— it  makes  no  odds,  for  you  can  not  tell  one  from  t'other." 


2OO          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

But  while  you  flee  for  your  life  from  John  the  Idea- 
less,  you  will  find  in  Carlyle's  "  French  Revolution,"  or 
in  the  writings  of  Thomas  Fuller,  figures  all  fresh,  and 
flashing  by  the  hundred  ;  while  the  wit  and  whimsicality 
of  Fuller  will  tickle  you  to  your  heart's  content.  Or  for 
a  lofty  delight,  hasten  to  Burke,  "  the  supreme  writer  of 
his  century,"  as  De  Quincey  has  well  said  of  him.  Mark 
in  the  following  what  excellent  use  Fuller  makes  of  one 
of  the  homeliest  of  facts: 

"  To  use  force  before  people  are  fairly  taught  the  truth,  is  to 
knock  a  nail  into  a  board  without  wimbling  a  hole  in  it,  which 
then  either  not  enters,  or  turns  crooked,  or  splits  the  wood  it 
pierceth." 

What  a  pity  and  shame  that  such  a  writer  is  so  little 
read ! 

We  close  our  discussion  of  the  metaphor  with  "  The 
Three  Mourners/'  translated  by  us  from  the  German  of 
Chamisso,  and  never  presented  in  English  before.  In 
this  translation  we  claim  the  whole  of  the  metaphor  in 
line  eighteenth — 

"  A  thunder-bolt  borne  on  a  thunder-cloud ;" 

and  we  have  expunged  the  coarse  sneer  in  the  original, 
which  represents  the  widow  as  mourning  only  three 
weeks — "  drey  wochen  :" 

"  From  vale  and  from  mountain  bursts  the  cry — 
*  To  arms  !  to  arms  !  the  invader  is  nigh  !' 
See  hastily  riding,  from  near  and  far, 
Our  choicest  youth  to  Freedom's  war. 
Severe  the  hour  and  dark  with  fate ; 
Full  many  a  home  left  desolate. 
'  Stern  war !     Thou  takest  each  dearest  one, 
My  blooming  bridegroom;  my  brother;  my  son  1' 
Woman's  hand  fits  out  for  battle's  rough  bed: 
The  bride  puts  the  helm  on  her  lover's  head; 
Sister  brings  the  black  steed  he  loves  so  well ; 
Mother  opens  the  gate,  and  weeps — '  Farewell !' 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  201 

'My  bridegroom  !  my  brother!  my  son! — again 
When  comest  thou  back  ?     Quick  !     Tell  us  when  !' 
'  When  air  and  water  and  land  are  free 
From  invasion's  taint,  I'm  again  with  thee.' 
They  are  off,  with  a  cheer,  and  a  neighing  loud — 
A  thunder-bolt  borne  on  a  thunder-cloud. 

"'The  time  is  long;  far  away  the  camp; 
But  we  listen  each  night  for  his  war-steed's  tramp. 
Day  drags  after  day.     Night's  dark  and  dreary; 
No  horseman  returns.     We're  weary,  weary  !' 
At  last  'tis  a  horse,  with  a  rapid  tread ; 
No  horseman  there — the  bridle  is  red. 
They  crowd  around  him ;  the  blood-marks  see — 
*  Why  com'st  thou  alone  ?     He — where  is  he  ? 
Hast  thou  left  him  bleeding,  untended,  alone  ? 
Give  me  back  my  bridegroom ;  my  brother ;  my  son  ! 
They  have  slain  my  hero !     O  steed  accursed, 
Why  left  ye  him  dying,  in  blood  and  thirst  ?' 
The  steed  seemed  to  answer,  the  lightning-eyed, 
1  I've  brought  you  his  message  !'    Then  reeled  and  died. 

"  To  the  gory  field  have  hastened  the  three, 
To  seek  the  lone  mound  where  their  loved  one  may  be. 
They  sat  them  down  by  that  bloody  bed : 
At  the  feet,  at  the  side,  and  one  at  the  head. 
At  the  head  the  mother;  and  at  the  side 
The  sister  dear;  at  the  feet  the  bride. 
'  O  woe  !  O  woe  !     Broken-hearted  here, 
Who  knows  our  bitterness,  loneliness,  fear  ? 
Yet  we  willingly  gave  him  to  God's  great  strife, 
For  a  threatened  homestead,  a  nation's  life. 
Yet  we're  but  women  !     Life's  light  hath  fled  ! 
Our  only  joy,  to  bemoan  the  dead.' 

"  The  bride  and  the  sister  wept  long  and  sore ; 
But  the  years  went  by — they  wept  no  more. 
But  lifelong  tears  mother's  love  supplied, 
Till  she  slept  in  his  grave  by  her  young  hero's  side." 


2O2          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    FOURTH. 
Metonymy. — Synecdoche. — Metalcpsis. 

XXXVII.  THE  class  of  figures  now  to  be  considered 
is  Metonymy :  a  title  that  comes  from  two  Greek  words, 
which,  with  Athenian  precision,  mean  "  a  change  of  name 
or  noun."  That  is,  metonymy  lies  always  in  a  noun, 
never  in  an  adjective  or  in  a  verb.  Mark  that  point. 
Moli&re,  the  great  French  comedian,  tells  of  one  who, 
taking  to  grammar  late  in  life,  was  amazed  to  find  that 
he  had  all  his  life  been  using  substantives,  adverbs,  and 
such  like,  without  his  knowing  of  it.  Many  a  capital 
metonymy  have  you  produced  in  your  day  without  ever 
dreaming  of  it. 

Metonymies  are  not  founded  on  resemblances,  as  sim- 
iles and  metaphors,  the  sisters,  are ;  but  on  such  intimate 
relations  as  those  thirty-four  which  we  shall  now  specify, 
each  whereof  is  a  figure.  How  many  more  they  are  !  for 
each  has  its  twin.  The  close  study  of  this  figure  is  fitted 
to  give  deep  insight  into  the  delicacy  of  language,  that 
exhaustless  marvel,  and  proof  of  man's  God-birth.  Va- 
riety is  what  calls  attention;  and  sylph-like  elegance.  - 
Nothing  more  etherial  can  be  thought  of. 

I.  A  noun  that  expresses  the  cause  is  put  for  a  noun 
that  expresses  the  effect.  In  one  of  Goldsmith's  poems, 
"  The  Deserted  Village,"  is  this : 

"  There  was  a  time,  ere  England's  griefs  began, 
When  every  rood  of  ground  maintained  its  man." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  203 

"  Ground,"  the  cause,  is  put  for  the  produce  of  the 
ground.  Nobody  uses  the  ground  for  food.  "  You  write 
a  bad  hand,"  says  teacher  to  pupil ;  "  hand,"  the  cause, 
being  put  for  "  writing."  When  Keats,  in  his  rich  "  Lines 
to  the  Nightingale,"  cries,  in  his  creamy,  mellifluous 
style— 

"  O  for  a  beaker  full  of  the  warm  South !" 

"  South  "  stands  for  the  wine  mellowed  there. 

We  obtain  from  his  excellent  poem,  "  Prince  Adeb," 
this  from  George  Henry  Boker,  where  he  uses  "  sum- 
mer" for  the  flowers  that  are  the  effect  and  bloom  of 
summer: 

"  Mossy  floors 
Flower'd  with  the  silken  summer  of  Shiraz." 

You  say,  "  I  have  read  Prescott  and  Thierry ;  I  have 
read  Froude,  I  have  read  Freeman:"  you  mean  their 
noble  histories,  which  the  sooner  you  read  the  better. 
We  have  prescribed  for  you  a  very  little  of  Edmund 
Spenser — say  ten  lines  a  day.  In  the  following  are  two 
fine  metonymies,  in  "  Old  Decay"  and  in  "  Darkness;" 
which  aid  us  much  in  detecting  the  source  of  the  de- 
light given  us  by  this  variety — the  wide,  dreamy  vague- 
ness that  lies  in  the  cause.  It  is  the  Cave  of  Mammon : 

"  Both  roof  and  floor  and  walls  were  all  of  gold, 
But  overgrown  with  dust  and  Old  Decay ; 
And  hid  in  darkness,  that  none  could  behold 
The  hue  thereof,  for  view  of  cheerful  day 
Did  never  in  that  house  itself  display. 
But  a  faint  shadow  of  uncertain  light, 
Such  as  a  lamp  whose  life  doth  fade  away; 
Or  as  the  moon,  clothed  with  cloudy  night, 
Does  show  to  him  that  walks  in  fear  and  sad  affright." 

Tennyson  we  turn  to.  Would  he  did  not  refine  and 
polish  quite  so  much,  till  the  bow  is  becoming  so  much 


204          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

ornamented  away  as  to  lose  its  rough  and  oaken  strength. 
But  here  is  a  choice  metonymy : 

"  And  like  a  flower  that  can  not  all  unfold, 
So  drenched  it  is  with  tempest." 

Or  a  princess  is  seen — 

"  Robed  in  the  long  night  of  her  deep  hair."          \ 

"  Night/'  the  cause  of  darkness,  is  put  for  darkness,  the 
effect ;  "  tempest "  is  put  for  rain.  A  feeling  of  vague 
width  is  on  us :  far  larger  than  a  single  sharply  defined 
effect.  This  half  baffles,  half  pleases  the  mind,  which 
roams  forth  untrammeled  in  a  hazy  dream-land  peopled 
with  wonders.  Jeremy  Taylor  is  rich  in  a  usage  akin  to 
this,  as  when  he  tells  us  that — 

"  The  rose  began  to  put  on  darkness  •" 
or  Spenser  speaks  of  Una  in  her  white  innocence : 

"  She,  of  naught  afraid, 
Through  woods  and  wasteness  wide  him  daily  sought." 

See  her  wandering,  almost  without  hope  of  end,  like  the 
white  and  stainless  moon,  through  limitless  mists  and 
far  Sahara-stretches  of  midnight.  Very  choice,  too,  the 
following  from  Aaron  Hill,  both  in  expression  and  in 
sentiment : 

"  Hide  not  thy  tears :  weep  boldly,  and  be  proud 
To  give  the  flowing  virtue  manly  way — 
Tis  Nature's  mark  to  know  an  honest  heart  by. 
Shame  on  those  breasts  of  stone  that  can  not  melt 
In  soft  adoption  of  another's  sorrow." 

2.  In  a  way  precisely  the  converse  of  that  just  men- 
tioned, the  noun  proper  to  the  effect  is  used  to  express 
the  cause.  The  Rev.  James  Harvey,  author  of  "  Medi- 
tations in  a  Flower  Garden,"  remarkable  for  its  florid 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  205 

style,  and  of  "Theron  and  Aspasia,"  a  very  able  work 
on  the  side  of  stalwart  Calvinism,  has  this  line : 

"  Swift  as  an  arrow  flies  the  leaden  death." 

"  Death,"  the  effect  of  the  bullet,  is  put  for  the  bullet 
itself.  When  Junius,  with  his  too  usual  sneer,  asks: 

"  Can  gray  hairs  make  folly  venerable  ?" 

"  gray  hairs,"  the  effect  of  old  age,  stands  for  old  age. 
The  advantage  of  this  is  evident.  Some  one  graphic 
effect  can  be  singled  out ;  the  cause  can  thus  be  pictured 
to  our  eyes  by  its  most  picturesque  result.  See  2  Kings 
iv.,  40,  where  "  death,"  the  effect,  is  named  for  the  poi- 
sonous gourds,  the  cause.  Oratory  can  make  a  deep  im- 
pression in  this  way.  Passion  naturally  fixes  on  the 
dreaded  or  on  the  desired  consequence.  Thus  Thom- 
son, in  his  description  of  a  spring  shower: 

"  'Tis  silence  all 

And  pleasing  expectation.  Herds  and  flocks 
Drop  the  dry  sprig;  and,  mute-imploring,  eye 
The  falling  verdure." 

Or  in  his  justly  celebrated  "  Hymn  on  the  Seasons," 
he  says  of  God : 

"He 
Flings  from  the  sun  direct  the  flaming  day." 

"  Day,"  the  effect,  is  used  for  light,  the  cause.  So,  by 
Sir  Walter,  in  his  great  novel,  the  "  Antiquary,"  which 
you  really  must  read.  "  The  deep  voice  "  for  Time,  the 
utterer  or  cause — the  deep  voice,  unembodied  thing, 
that  hovers  in  mystic  evanescence  around  us : 

"'Know'st  thou  not  me?'  the  Deep  Voice  cried; 

1  So  long  enjoy'd,  so  oft  misus'd  ; 
Alternate,  in  thy  fickle  pride, 

Desired,  neglected,  and  accused.'  " 

See  Gen.  xxxi.,  53  ;  Rev.  i.,  12. 


206          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

So  "  Henry  VIII.,"  act  iii.,  scene  ii.,  Surrey  brands 
Wolsey  thus : 

"Thou  scarlet  sin." 

But  how  unworthy  of  the  heart  and  of  the  reason  the 
too  common  metonymy  of  Nature,  the  effect,  for  God, 
the  cause :  as  if  it  were  a  burden  to  name  our  Father  or 
to  own  a  Personal  Deity,  without  whom  man  were  an 
orphan.  Wisely,  Lamarck,  the  great  botanist  and  geo- 
logian  : 

"Nature  is  an  order  of  things  constituted  by  the  Supreme, 
and  subject  to  laws  which  are  the  expression  of  his  will." 

Lyell's  "  Principles  of  Geology  "  is  a  work  of  merit. 
In  the  first  edition  was  this  sentence : 

"Our  admiration  is  strongly  excited  when  we  contemplate 
the  powers  of  insect  life,  in  the  creation  of  which  Nature  has 
been  so  prodigal." 

In  the  later  editions  the  cold  term  "  Nature  "  is  altered 
into  the  phrase,  "  the  Author  of  Nature :"  more  philo- 
sophic far ;  for  the  laws  of  Nature,  geometric  to  the  core, 
bear  the  deepest,  most  pervading  impress  of  a  Thinker ; 
as  do  the  arrangements  of  the  solar  system ;  for  exam- 
ple, in  Bode's  law. 

It  is  time  to  point,  in  the  most  definite  manner,  to  a 
very  singular  fact  in  language,  particularly  manifest  in 
metonymies :  that  if,  by  one  mode,  fine  effects  are  pro- 
duced, fine  effects  will  also  be  produced  by  exactly  the 
contrasted  mode,  as  witness  No.  I  and  No.  2,  P.  L.,  ii.,  704. 

3.  A  noun  denoting  the  place  is  used  for  a  noun  de- 
noting the  inhabitant.  In  a  rugged  ballad  by  the  Ital- 
ian shoemaker,  Fantini,  written  in  1860,  on  King  Victor 
Emanuel,  "  house"  is  for  family  or  dynasty: 

"  They'll  keep  to-day  in  the  happy  future  j 

'Twill  be  a  holiday  set  apart; 
For  then  as  now  the  House  of  Savoy 
Will  wear  us  all  in  its  royal  heart." 

Matt,  x.,  11-13;  Isa.  x.,  5. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  207 

In  Parnell's  best  poem, "  The  Hermit,"  we  find  "  world  " 
for  inhabitants  of  the  world : 

"  At  length  the  world,  renewed  by  calm  repose, 
Was  strong  for  toil;,  the  dappled  morn  arose." 

So  we  speak  of  Heaven  smiling  on  us ;  of  America 
disgraced  by  shameless  peculators ;  of  Europe  precipi- 
tating itself  on  Asia  in  the  Crusades.  Resemblance  is 
not  in  the  least  the  ground  of  such  metonymies :  some- 
thing real  must  be  that  basis.  It  is  the  ground  of  resi- 
dence, so  dear  and  permanent — the  charm  of  fatherland. 

4.  The  badge  is  used  for  that  of  which  it  is  the  sym- 
bol. We  speak  of  the  sword  and  the  gown.  James 
Shirley,  the  dramatist,  gives  us  this : 

"  The  glories  of  our  birth  and  state 
Are  shadows — not  substantial  things; 
There  is  no  armor  against  fate, 
Death  lays  his  icy  hand  .on  kings. 
Sceptre  and  crown  must  tumble  down, 
And  in  the  dust  be  equal  made 
With  the  poor  crooked  scythe  and  spade." 

Using  this  kind  of  metonymy,  George  Canning,  the 
English  statesman,  after  hearing  Chalmers  "preach,  cried : 

"  The  tartan  beats  us !  We  have  no  preaching  like  that  in 
England." 

Mrs.  Hemans  says  of  Bernardo  del  Carpio : 
"  His  banner  led  the  spears  no  more  amid  the  hills  of  Spain." 

Ruskin,  the  most  eloquent,  deploring  the  time  in  a 
prosperous  nation  that  forgets  God  in  its  prosperity, 
makes  mention  of — 

"  The  noise  of  jesting  words  and  the  foulness  of  dark 
thoughts,  which  succeed  to  the  earnest  purity  of  the  girded 
loins  and  the  burning  lamp." 

It  is  scarcely  too  much  to  affirm  that  this  one  variety 


208          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter at^cret 

of  this  one  class  of  figures  deserves  a  long  volume  to 
itself,  and  would  disclose  a  whole  realm  wealthy  in  many 
kinds  of  beauty.  I  Kings  xii.,  10-14. 

In  Douglas  Jerrold's  hands,  how  energetic  the  lan- 
guage becomes  by  using  it,  merely  by  signifying  "  re- 
spect" by  its  emblem,  "a  bow:" 

"  A  man  who  is  not  able  to  make  a  bow  to  his  conscience 
every  morning,  is  not  in  a  healthful  condition." 

In  the  subjoined,  from  Tennyson — mark  how  mono- 
syllabic his  language  —  with  what  trim  neatness  and 
classic  polish  he  utters  his  idea;  and  with  what  thrice 
delicate  touches  he  thinks  out  his  thought.  Flower, 
snow,  shadow  emblematize  summer,  winter,  death  : 

"The  path  by  which  we  twain  did  go, 

Which  led  by  tracts  that  pleased  us  well, 
Through  four  sweet  years  arose  and  fell, 
From  flower  to  flower,  from  snow  to  snow. 

"  But  where  the  path  we  walked  began 
To  slant  the  fifth  autumnal  slope, 
As  we  descended,  following  Hope, 
There  sat  the  Shadow  feard  of  man." 

In  these  lines,  from  one  of  Toplady's  many  beautiful 
hymns,  how  appropriately  the  manger  is  used  as  the 
badge  of  humility: 

"Let  thy  Cross  my  will  control; 

Conform  me  to  my  Guide; 
In  the  manger  lay  my  soul, 
And  crucify  my  pride." 

5.  A  noun  proper  to  an  attribute  is  used  to  denote 
the  subject  to  which  the  quality  belongs :  that  is,  an  ab- 
stract is  used  for  a  concrete.  How  often  there  is  reason 
to  cry :  "  There  goes  down  Broadway  a  sleighful  of  youth 
and  health;"  the  abstract  qualities,  youth  and  health, 
meaning  the  young  and  healthful.  Shenstone  skillfully 
succeeds,  with  the  word  Tenderness: 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.   .  209 

"  I  have  found  out  a  gift  for  my  fair : 

I  have  found  where  the  wood-pigeons  breed; 
But  let  me  the  plunder  forbear — 

She  would  say  'twas  a  barbarous  deed. 
For  he  ne'er  could  be  true,  she  averred, 

Who  could  rob  a  poor  bird  of  its  young: 
And  I  loved  her  the  more  when  I  heard 

Such  tenderness  fall  from  her  tongue." 

Of  this  variety,  where  the  name  of  a  quality  desig- 
nates that  to  which  the  quality  belongs,  we  have  an  in- 
stance when  the  name  of  a  color  denotes  the  robes  that 
are  colored.  Can  that  be  done  ?  Exquisitely,  by  Giles 
Fletcher;  who  hopes  for  mercy  through  being  wrapped 
in  the  robes  of  Christ,  dyed  purple  with  atoning  blood:. 

"  O  in  thy  purple  wrapt,  receive  me,  Lord  !'; 

What  a  happy  allusion,  too,  to  Christ  as  a  mighty  King, 
clothed  in  the  purple  of  state !  In  S.,  "  Lear,"  act  i., 
scene  i.,  the  2d  speech  qf  Lear,  line  5,  "strengths"  af- 
fords a  choice  instance  of  the  attribute  as  the  denomina- 
tion of  those  who  possess  it.  Sir  Robert  Grant  writes: 

"  By  the  sacred  griefs  that  wept 
O'er  the  grave  where  Lazarus  slept." 

6.  Mark  carefully  the  opposite  of  No.  5 — the  subject 
for  the  quality  or  qualities  contained  in  it :  that  is,  the 
concrete  for  the  abstract.  Metonymies  are  golden  coins, 
of  the  most  elegant  mintage,  with  two  faces.  Thus,  in 
a  discussion  whether  a  Presbytery  should  sanction  a 
split  in  a  certain  congregation,  and  the  erection  of  a  new 
church  Edifice,  Dr.  Lyman  Beecher  decided  in  these 
words : 

"Sanction  the  split:  Adam  and  grace  together  will  do  twice 
as  much  as  grace  alone." 

By  Adam  he  designated  that  love  of  strife,  that  spirit  of 
rivalry  and  faction,  by  no  means  unknown  in  congrega- 

O 


2io          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

tions  of  Adam's  children.  Dangerous  work  to  build 
churches  by  the  hands  of  the  devil  as  mason. 

7.  The  container  for  the  object  contained ;  that  object 
not  being  a  quality  or  abstract,  but  itself  a  concrete  or 
object  that  has  qualities.    This  therefore  is  not  the  same 
as  No.  6.     See  Luke  xx.,  n,  20.     "  Your  purse  or  your 
life,"  shouts  the  highwayman.    Not  with  your  purse,  the 
container,  is  he  enamored — he  loves  the  dollars  in  it ; 
metonymy  comes  as  natural  to  him  as  his  pistols.     Vir- 
gil, in  his  "  Georgics,"  speaks  of  the  Falernian  cellars, 
meaning  the  wine  in  them.     Lord  Lyttleton,  in  lines  on 
a  departed  friend,  uses  "  breast "  for  the  spirit  who  ani- 
mated it : 

"  O  candid  truth,  O  faith  without  a  stain, 
O  manners  gently  fair,  and  nobly  plain ; 
O  sympathizing  love  of  other's  bliss  ; 
Where  will  you  find  another  breast  like  his." 

8.  If  every  metonymy  or  change  of  noun  has  its  con- 
verse, we  may  expect  to  find  the  name  of  the  contained 
put  for  the  container.     Ponder  the  question  whereto 
Charles  Lamb  made  rejoinder.     He  was  returning  to 
London  in  a  stage-coach  after  dinner,  feeling  very  ro- 
tund, when  a  person  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  coach  door, 
and  asked : 

"  Are  you  full  inside  ?" 

Lamb  pretended  to  take  the  query  to  himself,  and  re- 
plied : 

"I  am,  for  one;  that  last  slice  of  plum-pudding  did  my  busi- 
ness." 

Mark  the  metonymy  in  the  query,  "  Are  you  full  ?"  where 
by  you, 'the  contained  in  the  coach,  was  meant  the  coach, 
the  container. 

9.  We  dwell  thus  long  on  this  figure  for  the  very  rea- 
son of  its  minute  details.    To  have  any  full  appreciation 
of  how  delicate  an  instrument  language  is,  needful  is  it 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  211 

to  study  its  most  refined  niceties.  The  name  of  the 
giver  or  producer  is  used  for  the  thing  given  or  produced; 
when  we  speak  of  a  glass  of  Madeira,  Madeira,  the  name 
of  the  island  producing  a  certain  sort  of  wine,  is  used  as 
a  name  for  the  wine.  Sydney  Smith  was  dining  with  a 
rich  merchant ;  the  host  remembered  his  having  Constan- 
tia,  a  wine  from  -the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  in  his  cellar,  so 
he  sent  for  one  bottle  of  it.  They  grew  clamorous  for  an- 
other bottle,  but  the  entertainer  refused  them  a  second : 

"  Well,"  quoth  the  wit,  "  since  we  can  not  double  the  Cape, 
we  must  e'en  go  back  to  Madeira." 

10.  On  the  contrary,  as  usual ;  the  name  of  the  product 
stands  for  the  producer:  as  in  that  wondrously  delicate 
passage  in  "  Paradise  Lost,"  v.,  349 — odors  for  the  flowers 
that  breathed  them  forth : 

"  She  strews  the  ground 
With  rose;  and  odors  from  the  shrub  unfumed." 

That  is,  without  the  application  of  fire  or  the  emission 
of  smoke.  See  P.  L.,  vi.,  216. 

11.  The  voice  or  sound  is  used  for  the  speaker,  or  ob- 
ject producing  the  sound,  with  an  effect  striking  almost 
to  paradox;  as  in  Rev.  i.,  12: 

"I  turned  to  see  the  voice  that  spake  with  me." 

P.  L.,  vi.,  212  ;   John  i.,  23. 

12.  A  deity  of  mythology  is  used  for  the  name  of  the 
object  presided  over.     Bryan  Waller  Proctor,  whose  lit- 
erary name  was  Barry  Cornwall,  is  remarkable  for  the 
variety  and  delicious  melody  of  his  rhythms;  for  his 
love  of  the  gentle  and  the  genial ;  for  his  passionate  ear- 
nestness and   refined   sentiment.      Here  is  a  quotation 
from  him : 

"  In  a  high,  solitary  turret,  where 

None  were  admitted,  .would  he  muse,  when  first 
The  young  day  broke;  perhaps  because  he  there 
Had  in  his  early  infancy  been  nursed; 


212          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature.   • 

Or  that  he  felt  more  pure  the  morning  air, 

Or  loved  to  see  the  great  Apollo  burst 
From  out  his  cloudy  bondage,  and  the  night 
Hurry  away  before  the  conquering  light." 

The  gods  and  goddesses  of  Hellas  and  of  Rome  would 
not  thus  still  sit  on  the  cloud-thrones  of  fancy,  did  not 
a  whole  world  of  moon-ray  imaginings  haunt  every 
name.  Even  Pollok,  devout  and  dying  Christian,  in  his 
grand  poem,  "  The  Course  of  Time,"  published  in  1827, 
makes  use  of  these  names  as  the  names  of  objects.  Dr. 
Holmes  is  led,  by  his  bigoted  spite  at  Christianity,  to 
maintain  that  Pollok  has  no  tenderness — nothing  but 
gloom.  Judge  for  yourselves: 

"It  was  an  eve  of  autumn's  holiest  mood; 
The  cornfields,  bathed  in  Cynthia's  silver  light, 
Stood  ready  for  the  reaper's  gathering  hand ; 
And  all  the  winds  slept  soundly.     Nature  seemed 
In  silent  contemplation  to  adore 
Its  Maker.     Now  and  then  the  aged  leaf, 
Falling  from  its  fellows,  rustled  to  the  ground ; 
And  as  it  fell  bade  man  think  of  his  end. 
On  vale  and  lake,  on  wood  and  mountain  high, 
With  pensive  wing  outspread,  sat  heavenly  Thought 
Conversing  with  itself.     Vesper  looked  forth 
From  out  her  western  hermitage,  and  smiled ; 
And  up  the  east,  unclouded,  rode  the  Moon, 
With  all  her  stars,  gazing  on  Earth  intense, 
As  if  she  saw  some  wonder  walking  there." 

13.  A  noun  that  denotes  the  thing  supporting  is  used 
for  a  noun  that  denotes  the  thing  supported.     We  say 
"  field  "  for  battle ;  "  table  "  for  the  eatables  on  it ;  "  al- 
tar" for  sacrifice.     Milton  thus  writes: 

"  Amazement  seized 
The  rebel  thrones." 

14.  The    name    of  the   thing   possessed    instead    of 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.     .  213 

the  possessor;  as  when  Fisher  Ames,  in  a  noble  pas-' 
sage: 

'"The  war-whoop  shall  wake  the  sleep  of  the  cradle;"  • 
and  Shakespeare  informs  us  that  Coriolanus — 
"Drove  the  bristled  lips  before  him." 

The  style  of  "  Coriolanus  "  is  Shakespeare  at  his  best. 

15.  On  the  contrary,  we  have  the  possessor  for  the 
possessed.    In  the  "  Georgics,"  iii.,  324,  Virgil  has  it  thus : 

"  Let  us  browse  on  the  fields  cool  with  dew." 

At  first  inspection,  we  are  apt  to  think  that  the  figure 
here  lies  in  the  verb  "  browse ;"  on  looking  more  closely 
we  see  that  it  lies  in  the  pronoun  "  us,"  for  "our  flocks ;" 
expressing,  in  a  Nebuchadnezzar-like  way,  the  identity 
between  the  farmer  and  his  live  stock.  Dr.  Bushnell 
warns  us  that — 

"  There  is  a  busy  infidel  always  lurking  in  our  hearts ;" 

where  "  infidel "  stands  for  infidelity.  Luther,  in  his 
rough,  honest  way,  used  to  cry — ? 

"  Every  one  of  us  has  a  pope  in  his  inside :" 

pope  being  used  for  the  haughty  feeling  that  loves  to 
deal  in  anathemas. 

16.  The  instrument  for  the  user:  Isa.  xiii.,  18.    Milton, 
in  his  "  Lycidas,"  in  which  pathos  is  blent  with  learning, 
speaks  with  his  wonted  scorn  of  priests,  and  calls  them — 

"  Blind  mouths  that  scarce  themselves  know  how  to  hold 
A  sheep-hook,  or  have  learn'd  aught  else  the  least 
That  to  the  herdsman's  art  belongs." 

Kossuth  used  this  variety  when  he  exclaimed — alas !  it 
was  a  dream — 

"  Light  has  spread,  and  even  bayonets  think." 
But  Sir  Walter  rebukes  Croker  for  writing — 

"  Full  fifty  thousand  muskets  bright, 
Led  by  old  warriors  trained  in  fight." 


214          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter  attire. 

17.  This  ever-recurring  figure  gives  the  name  proper 
to    that  which   exerts   an    influence,  for   the    influence 
exerted.     Joanna  Baillie,  celebrated  by  her  "  Plays  of 
the  Passions,"  presents   us,  in   her   "  Columbus,"  with 
these  lines: 

"When  thinking  of  the  mighty  dead, 

The  young  from  slothful  couch  will  start, 
And  vow,  with  lifted  hands  outspread, 
Like  them  to  act  a  noble  part." 

Observe  that  "  slothful  couch,"  that  which  exerts  the 
evil  influence,  is  used  as  a  name  for  sloth  itself,  the  influ- 
ence exerted. 

1 8.  The  name  of  the  progenitor  for  his  posterity;  as 
by  Sir  Walter: 

"  When  Israel,  of  the  Lord  beloved, 

Out  from  the  land  of  bondage  came, 
Her  father's  God  before  her  moved — 
An  awful  guide,  in  smoke  and  flame." 

19.  The   noun    denoting  the  material  for  the  thing 
made   of  that   material.      Professor   Aytoun,   of  Edin- 
burgh, in  his  "Battle  of  Killiecrankie,"  by  "  steel "  means 
swords : 

"  Like  a  tempest  down  the  ridges 
Swept  the  hurricane  of  steel; 
Rose  the  slogan  of  Macdonald, 

Flash'd  the  broadsword  of  Lochiel." 

Sir  Richard  Fanshaw  translated  the  "  Pastor  Fido "  of 
Guarini.  Speaking  of  the  golden  age,  he  thus  writes : 

"  No  wandering  pines  unto  a  foreign  shore, 
Or  war  or  riches  (a  worse  burden)  bore." 

Sir  Richard  translated  also  the  "  Lusiad "  of  Camoens, 
the  national  epic  of  Portugal.  Allan  Cunningham,  in  a 
spirited  sea-song,  thus  breaks  forth : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  215 

"  The  wind  is  piping  loud,  my  boys, 

The  lightning  flashes  free ; 
While  the  hollow  oak  our  palace  is, 
Our  heritage  the  sea." 

20.  The  noun  for  the  period  of  time  during  which  cer- 
tain events  occurred  for  the  events.  »  Achilles,  in  Cow- 
per's  "  Homer,"  thus  cries: 

"  So  have  I  worn  out  many  sleepless  nights, 
And  waded  deep  through  many  a  bloody  day." 

Cowper  is  the  domestic  poet  of  England ;  the  Fourth 
Book  of  the  "  Task  "  is  perfect. 

21.  The  noun  that  names  a  limb  or  bodily  part  ex- 
presses him  whose  member  it  is.     A  fortune  had  been 
made  by  selling  snuff;  an  inscription  was  wanted  for  the 
chariot  about  to  be  set  up.     A  wit  suggested : 

"Who  would  have  thought  it, 
That  noses  would  have  bought  it  ?" 

"  Noses  "  for  the  snuff-takers. 

22.  The  thing  that  people  sit  at  gives  a  name  for  the 
people.    An  historian  tells  us  of  a  board  that,  after  long 
deliberation,  came   to   a   unanimous   vote.     Wonderful 
board,  if  you  take  it  literally. 

23.  The  name  of  him  served  for  the  service  rendered. 
No  nobler  example  than  in  the  words  of  Paul : 

"To  me  to  live  is  Christ;" 

where  Christ  includes  at  least  these  three  forms  of  serv- 
ice: in  him,  by  conversion;  with  him,  by  companionship 
and  open  profession ;  for  him,  by  obedience. 

24.  The  object  which  an  action  respects  or  deals  with 
may  be  put  for  the  action.     Robert  Surtees,  the  histo- 
rian of  Durham,  a  famous  ballad  collector,  who  first  sug- 
gested to  Scott  the  idea  of  working  up  the  Jacobin  tra- 
ditions of  the  Scottish  Highlands  into  Waverley,  called 
on  the  Bishop  of  Lichfield,  Dean  of  Durham,  to  request 
his  aid  for  a  poor  man  who  had  lost  his  only  cow : 


216          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Go,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  to  my  steward,  and  tell  him  to  give 
you  as  much  money  as  will  buy  the  best  cow  you  can  find." 

Surtees  exclaimed— 

"  My  lord,  I  hope  you  will  ride  to, heaven  on  the  back  of  that 
cow." 

"  On  the  back  of  that  cow  "  means  "  on  that  action." 
A  day  or  two  after,  one  told  him  that  the  wish  was 
absurd : 

"  I  see  nothing  absurd  in  it,"  responded  he ;  "  when  the 
Dean  rides,  to  heaven  on  the  back  of  that  cow,  many  of  his  fel- 
low-clergymen may  be  glad  to  lay  hold  of  her  tail." 

25.  A  subtle  and  very  beautiful  metonymy  it  is,  when 
the  thing  or  things  manifested  or  proved  is  taken  for  the 
name  of  the  thing  that  manifests  it  or  them.    The  blood 
of  crucifixion  proved  what  sorrow — what  love  His;  says 
Dr.  Watts: 

"  See  from  His  head,  His  hands,  His  feet, 
Sorrow  and  love  flow  mingled  down." 

26.  The  name  of  a  person  for  the  person  himself;  as 
Milton,  grandly  because  dimly  : 

"  By  them  stood 

Orcus  and  Ades,  and  the  dreaded  name 
Of  Demogorgon." 

'  27.  Per  contra,  the  person  for  the  person's  name.  As 
a  pronoun  is  used  for  a  noun,  a  metonymy  may  be  in  a 
pronoun.  A  literary  man,  very  extravagant,  had  got  a 
friend  to  go  round  for  a  subscription  in  his  behalf — not 
the  first  time  the  hat  had  petitioned.  Application  was 
made  to  Douglas  Jerrold : 

"  How  much  money  do  you  want  ?" — "  Only  a  four  and  two 
naughts." — "Then  put  me  clown  for  one  of  the  naughts." 

"  Me  "  is  a  change  of  noun  for  "  my  name." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  217 

28.  The  thing  worn  for  the  wearer.     In  the  old  song, 

"  Good-morning  to  your  Night-cap," 

"  night-cap  "  means  him  whose  pate  it  covers.     Milton, 
iv.,  7&5,  has  this: 

"  Half  wheeling  to  the  shield,  half  to  the  spear;" 

that  is,  to  the  left  hand  and  to  the  right;  the  shield  be- 
ing worn  on  the  left  arm ;  the  spear  being  wielded  by 
the  right  hand.  Livy,  the  Latin  historian,  whose  style 
is  so  perfect  in  its  milky  blandness,  has  a  phrase,  exactly 
similar : 

"To  wheel  to  the^spear,  or  to  the  shield." 

29.  The  name  of  that  which  is  waged  is  used  for  the 
instruments  wherewith  you  wage  it ;  thus,  in  P.  L.,  vi., 
712: 

"  Bring  forth  all  my  war, 
My  bow  and  thunder." 

30.  The   name  of  the  leader  is  imparted  to  the  fol- 
lower ;  as  when  the  Saviour  said  to  Peter,  as  if  to  show 
for  all  time  that  that  apostle  had  no  superiority  over 
the  other  apostles: 

"Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan." 

Matt,  xvi.,  19,  23,  with  xviii.,  18. 

31.  The  name  of  a  loved  object  is  ascribed  to  those 
who  are  dearly  loved.     Ponder  a  charming  instance  in 
Mark  iii.,  31-35  ;  and  open  your  mind  to  the  conviction 
that  none  ever  used  figures  more  frequently  than  De- 
mosthenes, Paul,  and — the  Saviour.    So  strong  this  tend- 
ency in  the  last  named,  that  continually  it  ripened  into 
full-formed  fruit  in  the  form  of  parable.     That  peerless 
intellect,  what  an  extraordinary  bent  was  in  it  to  figura- 
tive word  and  thought  and  action  —  what  a  fount  of 
p'oesy  and  of  the  oratoric  ! 


2 1 8          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

32.. The  place  for  the  occurrence  that  happened  there; 
as  in  Shakespeare: 

"  By  this  cimeter, 
That  won  three  fields  of  Sultan  Solyman  !" 

XXXVIII. — 33.  Synecdoche  next  insists  on  receiving 
mention,  because  it  is  a  thirty-third  and  double  form  of 
metonymy,  so  important  as  to  have  obtained  a  separate 
title — a  part  for  the  whole,  or  a  whole  for  the  part :  as 
when  Thomas  Aird  addresses  his  mother  as  "  Thou  sa^ 
cred  head  " — an  expression  very  familiar  to  the  students 
of  Homer;  or  as  when  you  term  your  home  "Thou  be- 
loved roof;"  or  as  when  a  general  is  said  to  win  a  vic- 
tory. Gen.  iii.,  19;  Matt,  viii.,  8;  Mark  xvi.,  15.  In  Heb. 
ii.,  14,  by  "  flesh  and  blood  "  is  meant  the  whole  human 
nature.  When  the  -Saviour  told  Peter,  "  Flesh  and  blood 
have  not  revealed  it  unto  thee,"  he  did  not  mean  that 
Peter  obtained  his  views  from  a  soulless  body ;  but  a  part 
stands  for  the  whole.  It  is  said  that  there  are  "  a  thou- 
sand souls  "  in  a  town ;  then  their  bodies  are  implied — 
their  souls,  a  part,  contain  the  whole  of  them.  "  They 
shall  be  one  flesh"  is  said  of  twain  who  are  wed ;  it  means 
not  that  the  wedded  pair  become  a  hapless  twain  de- 
prived of  minds  or  souls.  Thus  synecdoche  scatters  the 
error  that  the  Redeemer  is  destitute  of  a  human  soul, 
because  when  a  part  is  specified,  the  whole  is  included. 
Yet  Mr.  H.W.  Beecher,  wonderful  to  say,  has  adopted 
this  queer  idea.  As  if  no  such  thing  as  synecdoche  ever 
existed ;  or  as  if  every  wedded  pair  underwent  a  loss  of 
soul — a  heavy  tax  on  matrimony.  How  important  is 
synecdoche — how  thoroughly  it  proves  a  bulwark  against 
a  heresy,  even ! 

In  Pickering's  ballad  a  synecdoche  is  found.  A  wan- 
dering minstrel  comes  to  a  farmer's  door  on  a  midnight 
of  snow;  the  farmer  lets  him  in,  thus  addressing  the 
old  man : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  2 1 9 

"  '  Come  in,  auld  carl,  I'll  steer  my  fire, 

I'll  make  it  bleeze  a  bonnie  flame; 

Your  bluid  is  thin,  ye've  tint  the  gate, 

Ye  shouldna  stray  sae  far  frae  hame.' " 
"'Nae  hame  have  I,'  the  minstrel  said; 
'  Sad  party-strife  o'erturn'd  my  ha' ; 
And  weeping  at  the  close  of  life, 

I  wander  through  a  wreath  of  snaw.' " 

Here  one  wreath  is  put  for  the  many. 

XXXIX. — 34.  Metalepsis  has  also  to  be  carefully  cata- 
logued, not  without  wonder — Compound  Metonymy.  In 
Virgil's  first  "  Eclogue,"  line  70,  Melibceus  speaks  of  re- 
visiting his  old  homestead —  • 

"After  some  beards  of  corn;"  . 

where  "  beards  "  stand  for  ears  of  corn ;  "  ears  of  corn  " 
for  the  corn  crop ;  the  corn  crop  for  autumn ;  autumn 
for  the  year.  Dr.  Gibbons  has  said,  in  his  "  Rhetoric :" 

"  This  figure,  metalepsis,  is  like  an  echo  in  a  spacious  dome, 
that  returns  again  and  again  upon  us  before  it  ceases  its 
sound." 

Dr.  Boyd,  "The  Country  Parson,"  has  a  very  clever 
essay  on  veal :  Veal  being  immature  beef;  and  immature 
beef  being  an  emblematic  name  of  immature  young  men. 
In  an  old  song,  a  lady  over-bibulous  is  introduced  to  us. 
Her  husband  prays  that  she  may  drink  "  hooly  " — that 
is,  considerately : 

"  First  she  drank  Crummie,  and  syne  she  drank  Charlie ; 
O  that  my  wife  wad  drink  hooly  and  fairly." 

She  did  not  literally  drink  Crummie,  the  cow,  nor  Char- 
lie, the  horse.  "  Crummie  "  denotes  the  money  got  by 
the  sale  of  Crummie ;  and  the  money  so  obtained  de- 
notes the  whisky  bought  with  the  money.  In  his  "  Aus- 
tin Elliot,"  Henry  Kingsley  says: 

"  We  shall  none  of  us  know  any  more  about  the  matter  till 
the  kye  come  hame;" 


220  Might  and  Mirth,  of  Literature. 

that  is,  till  death ;  for  the  kye  come  home  at  the  gloam- 
ing ;  and  gloaming,  or  the  twilight  of  day,  stands  for  the 
evening  of  life ;  and  at  the  evening  of  life  comes  death 
— the  great  mystery  which  is  the  solver  of  mysteries. 
Very  wondrous  is  metalepsis,  our  thirty-fourth  kind  of 
metonymy.  S.,  "  Lear,"  act  i.,  scene  i.,  Lear's  4th  speech, 
line  6.  But  we  hurry  to  a  close.  This  chapter  is  by  far 
the  most  complete  treatment  of  metonymy  the  world 
has  ever  seen.  Yet  it  is  evident  to  you  that  we  hasten 
to  an  incomplete  close.  Easily  might  you  specify  a  hun- 
dred varieties  instead  of  our  scanty  thirty-four.  Of  each 
of  these  thirty-four  we  implore  you  to  cull  a  hundred 
specimens:  a  month's  work  at  least.  Zech.  xi.,  10;  S., 
"  Julius  Caesar,"  act  i.,  scene  i.,  4th  speech  of  Flavius, 
line  10. 

We  take  leave  of  metonymy,  this  elegant  depart- 
ment of  our  subject,  by  giving  a  specimen  of  our  own. 
"  Lama  sabachthani?" — "why  hast  Thou  forsaken  me?" 
—is  one  of  the  dying  cries  of  our  Saviour  on  the.  cross. 
Let  us  use,  then,  the  cry  uttered  by  a  person  for  the  per- 
son himself,  and  term  the  Great  Martyr  "  the  Lama 
Sabachthani  of  lost  mankind."  Further,  we  trust  our 
readers  will  hold  with  us  that  as  metonymy  is  a.  change 
of  name  or  noun,  no  other  figure  ought  to  be  permitted 
to  refer  to  change  of  noun.  Trope  must  not  be  suf- 
fered to  intrude  into  this  province.  If  ever  distinctness 
is  to  reign  on  this  subject,  a  change  of  a  noun  will  no 
longer  be  admitted  to  be  a  trope.  Trope  must  go,  in 
search  of  a  kingdom,  to  some  other  part  of  speech.  We 
hasten,  therefore,  to  our  next  chapter.  Yet  we  can  not 
but  apologize  for  the  very  few  words  we  have  given  to 
our  fifth  variety  of  metonymy — the  use  of  abstracts  for 
concretes ;  than  which  there  is  nothing  in  language  more 
refined,  more  susceptible  of  poesy.  Do  not  be  satisfied 
till  you  collect,  into  your  herbarium,  two  hundred  speci- 
mens at  least.  We  have  thrown  away  scores  of  examples, 
from  the  painful  dread  of  making  our  volume  too  bulky. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  221 


CHAPTER  X. 

FIGURES    OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    FIFTH. 

Tropes. 

XL.  OUR  next  figure,  a  very  important  one,  is  the 
Trope ;  yet  is  our  subject  in  a  condition  so  disgrace- 
ful tp  our  language  that  never  yet  has  the  term  Trope 
been  precisely  defined.  Dr.  Johnson,  in  his  Dictionary, 
thus  decides :  "  In  strict  acceptation,  the  change  of  a 
word  is  a  trope  " — of  a  single  word.  But  of  what  word  ? 
The  term  trope  is  from  the  Greek — rpcVw,  /  turn ;  the 
turning  of  a  word  from  its  original  application,  more  or 
less.  This  brings  us  so  far  on  our  way;  but  it  is  far 
from  sufficient,  as  it  does  not  tell  us  what  kind  of  word. 
Webster  and  all  the  rest  are  equally  inadequate ;  you 
will  search  all  our  writers  in  vain  for  a  clear  distinction 
—  which  is  what  the  language  and  the  theme  imper- 
atively demand  —  between  a  trope  and  a  metonymy. 
Every  other  commonly  employed  term  is  occupied — such 
as  simile,  metaphor,  implication  ;  metonymy  especially  is 
clear  as  day — it  lies  always  in  a  noun ;  is  trope  to  wan- 
der around  loose,  causing  only  confusion  ?  Yet  a  large 
group  of  figures  of  the  rarest  fairy-like  beauty,  of  corus- 
cating might,  are  left  to  go  destitute  of  a  distinct  appel- 
lation. Your  author  is  daring  enough  to  seize  an  unap- 
propriated title,  and  to  wed  it  to  a  magnificent  group 
of .  figures,  which  that  title  most  exquisitely  suits;  those 
turns  that  lie  in  adjectives,  and  which,  as  soon  as  you 
gaze  on  them,  will  triumphantly  vindicate  their  deserv- 
ingness  of  a  wholly  separate  name.  They  are  not  $ub- 


222          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

jects,  but  attributes  or  descriptives  of  subjects ;  in  fact, 
adjectives. 

1.  An  adjective  of  one  operated,  on  is  ascribed  to  the 
cause,  as  in  the  expressions  jovial  wine,  musing  midnight, 
drowsy  tinklings,  blushing  honors,  eddying  oar.     Will- 
iam Motherwell  calls  the  way  weary.     Not  the  way  can 
be  weary,  but  him  operated  on  by  the  way : 

"I've  wandered  east,  I've  wandered  west, 

Through  mony  a  weary  way; 
But  never,  never  can  forget 
The  love  of  life's  young  day." 

Milton,  in  his  unsurpassed  "  L'Allegro,"  has  the  ex- 
ression — 

"The  merry  bells;" 

Thomas  Moore  has — 

"Heaven's  forgiving  rainbow;" 

neither  the  bells  nor  the  rainbow,  literally,  possess  these 
ascriptives.  More  delicate  this  than  even  metonymy. 
Disgraceful  to  make  "  trope  "  common  to  two  so  differ- 
ent things. 

2.  An  adjective  belonging  to  a  subject  is  bestowed  on 
one  of  the  parts  or  members  of  that  subject.    We  speak 
of  one  visiting  a  church  with  "  religious  footsteps."    Rob- 
ert Ferguson,  the  precursor  of  Burns,  ascribes  wisdom 
to  the  snout,  in  a  panegyric  on  broadcloth : 

"Braidclaith  lends  folk  an  unco  heeze; 
Makes  mony  kailworms  butterflies ; 
Gies  mony  a  doctor  his  degrees 

For  little  skaith : 
In  short,  you  may  be  what  you  please 

Wi'  guid  braidclaith. 
For  though  you  had  as  wise  a  snout  on 
As  Shakespeare  or  Sir  Isaac  Newton, 
Your  judgment  folk  would  hae  a  doubt  on, 

I'll  tak'  my  aith, 
Till  they  could  see  you  wi'  a  suit  on 

O'  guid  braidclaith." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  223 

Mrs.  Barbauld,  a  writer  of  uncommon  vigor,  writes  of 
the  discomforts  of  a  washing-day.  Not  is  it  the  hand 
that  can  be  "  impatient :" 

"  Thine  eye  shall  rue 

The  budding  fragrance  of  thy  tender  shrubs,   - 
Myrtle  or  rose  all  crush'd,  beneath  the  weight 
Of  coarse-check'd  apron,  with  impatient  hand 
Twitch'd  off  when  showers  impend." 

Magnificent  our  example  from  Campbell's  "  Curse  of. 
O'Connor's  Child;"  not  the  faces  were  "  dying,'\but  her 
unpitying  brothers  themselves : 

"  Away  !  away  !  to  Athunrie  ! 
Where  downward  when  the-  sun  shall  fall 
The  raven's  wing  shall  be  your  pall ! 
And  not  a  vassal  shall  unlace 
The  visor  from  your  dying  face !" 

3.  An  adjective  true  of  an  agent  is  given  to  the  instru- 
ment with  which  or  on  which  he  works,  or  which  he  or 
she  employs :  as  in  the  expressions,  "rjkms  incense," 
"  coward  swords."  In  Spectator,  No.  2^ddisoft)speaks : 

"I  have  seen  a  fan  so  very  angry  that  it  would  have  been 
dangerous  for  the  absent  lover  to  have  come  within  the  wind 
of  it ;  and  at  other  times  so  very  languishing  that  I  have  been 
glad,  for  the  lady's  sake,  that  the  lover  was  at  a  convenient 
distance." 

Sir  Walter,  deploring  Leyden's  early  death,  applies  an 
ascriptive,  "  varied  in  lore,"  to  the  lamp  which  Leyden 
studied  by.  S.,  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  act  ii.,  scene 
vi.,  line  6. 

.  4.  In  Miss  Landon's  "  Adieu  to  a  Bride  "  the  roof  is 
called  "  fond  " — an  adjective  true  of  the  contained  is 
turned  over  to  the  container : 

"  She  wept  to  leave  the  fond  roof  where 

She  had  been  lov'd  so  long; 
Though  glad  the  peal  upon  the  air, 
And  gay  the  bridal  throng." 


224          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

The  Hon.  William  Herbert,  celebrated  for  his  elegant 
translations  from  the  Italian,  Spanish,  and  Portuguese, 
and  especially  from  the  Danish  and  Icelandic,  published 
his  "  Helga,"  in  1815,  in  seven  cantos.  He  describes  the 
sudden* summer  of  the  far  North  thus: 

"  Fair  glens  and  verdant  vales  appear, 
And  warmth  awakes  the  budding  year." 

Not  the  year  buds,  but  the  flowers  which  that  year  con- 
tains in  its  spring. 

Similarly  Joel  Barlow,  in  his  national  American  poem, 
"  The  Hasty  Pudding,"  has  this  couplet : 

"  At  last  the  closing  season  browns  the  plain, 
And  ripe  October  gathers  in  the  grain." 

5.  An  adjective  of  the  possessor  may  be  turned  over  to 
the  thing  possessed.    TTnrarpJft/alpnje,.  the  prince  of  let- 
ter-writers, calls  one  always  grinning  to  show  his  fine  set 
of  teeth — 

"  The  gentleman  with  the  foolish  teeth." 

Francis  Beaumont  speaks  of  "  pale  passion,"  though 
not  the  passion  can  be  pale,  but  he  whose  the  passion  is: 

"  Fountain-heads,  and  pathless  groves — 
Places  which  pale  passion  loves." 

Southey,  in  his  excellent  poem,  "  Madoc,"  terms  the 
sunshine — "  joyful." 

6.  An  adjective  expressive  of  the  season,  place,  or  per- 
son, is  ascribed  to  an  object  which  strongly  characterizes 
that  season,  place,  or  person ;  as  when  Milton  sings  of 
the  gray-fly — 

"  Winding  its  sultry  horn." 

Not  the  horn  is  sultry,  but  the  summer  evening  when 
its  sleepy  noise  is  heard. 

7.  The  main  history  of  an  individual  is  marked  fitly 
by  an  adjective,  which  adjective  is  ascribed  to  the  indi- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  225 

vidual  himself.  Galileo  is  characterized  as  "  the  starry 
Galileo."  In  one  adjective  may  a  life  be  thus  con- 
densed. 

8.  An  adjective  true  literally  of  the  thing  represented 
by  an  emblem  is  turned  over  to  the  emblem  itself.    Snow 
is  not  innocent  in  any  moral  point  of  view;  but  it  is  a 
striking  emblem  of  moral  purity.    Milton  therefore  thus 
writes  of  Nature  at  the  season  of  Christ's  birth ;  and  in 
the  expression  is  naught  of  straining : 

"  She  woos  the  gentle  air 
To  hide  her  guilty  front  with  innocent  snow." 

Richard  Crashaw  asks  of  a  gladsome  old  age — 

"  Would'st  see  December  smile  ? 
Would'st  see  nests  of  new  roses  grow 
In  a  bed  of  reverent  snow  ?" 

Darkness,  an  emblem  of  melancholy,  is  itself  called 
melancholy,  in  the  following  by  Clifford : 

"When  the  humid  showers  gather 

Over  all  the  starry  spheres, 
And  the  melancholy  darkness 

Gently  weeps  in  rainy  tears, 
'Tis  a  joy  to  press  the  pillow 

Of  a  cottage  chamber-bed,  € 

And  to  listen  to  the  patter 

Of  the  soft  rain  overhead." 

9.  An  adjective  belonging  to  a  thing  described  is  given 
to  the  description  of  it.    In  the  following,  from  "  Madoc," 
— the  best  long  sea-poem  in  our  language — a  tale  de- 
scriptive of  perils  is   called  perilous.     Read  with  care 
Southey's  four  great  poems :  "  Thalaba,"  wild  and  won- 
drous ;  "  Kehama,"  fantastic,  irregular,  fascinating;  "Ma- 
doc,"  with  its  admirable  descriptions  of  outward  nat- 
ure, and  its  interesting  episodes ;  "  Roderic,"  his  most 
matured  production,  strong  in  dramatic  power: 

P 


226          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter atiire. 

"  Tis  pleasant,  by  the  cheerful  hearth,  to  hear 
Of  tempests  and  the  dangers  of  the  deep; 
And  pause  at  times  and  feel  that  we  are  safe, 
Then  listen  to  the  rjerilous  tale  again." 

10.  An  adjective  proper  to  the  cause  is  turned  over  to 
an  effect  of  that  cause.  The  load  becomes  sweet.  Willis 
G.  Clark  speaks : 

"  Mother,  thy  child  is  bless'd ; 
And  though  his  presence  may  be  lost  to  thee, 
And  vacant  leave  thy  breast, 
And  missed  a  sweet  load  from  thy  parent  knee ; 
Though  tones  familiar  from  thine  ear  have  passed, 
Thou'lt  meet  thy  first-born  with  the  Lord  at  last." 

Our  American  painter  and  poet,  Washington  All- 
ston,  in  his  "  Spanish  Maid,"  terms  the  cannons'  rattle, 
"deadly:" 

"  She  hears  the  cannon's  deadly  rattle." 

ii»  An  adjective  of  the  thinker  is  ascribed  to  the  ef- 
fects of  thought.  Fisher  Ames  (every  thing  from  him 
let  be  studied  with  great  care)  speaks  of — 

"A  sanguine  and  passionate  hypothesis." 

Not  the  hypothesis,  but  those  who  rushed  into  it. 

12.  An  adjective  proper  to  a  thing  worn  is  given  to 
the  wearing  of  it.     This  form  of  trope  is  rare;  only  one 
instance  have  we  discovered — in  Horace,  noted  for  his 
unsurpassed  felicity  of  expression.     In  his  "  Odes/'  the 
great  lyrist  has  this  phrase : 

•"  Purple  dresses,  the  wearing  of  which  is  brighter  than  any 
J     star." 

After  many  perusals,  we  can  riot  find  in  Horace  one 
strictly  original  thought ;   but  what  elegant  diction  ! 

13.  An  adjective  of  a  thing  worn  is  given  to  the  wearer 
of  it.     Quarles,  of  Lazarus  and  Dives,  says : 

"The  dogs  far  kinder  than  their  purple  master." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric,  227 

14.  An  adjective  strictly  proper  to  the  thing  received 
is  turned  and  given  to  the  receiver  of  it,  as  in  "  Paradise 
Lost,"  vi.,  528: 

"  Others  from  the  dawning  hills 
Looked  round." 

"  Dawning"  is  strictly  true  of  the  light ;  the  hills  are  the 
receivers  of  the  light. 

Such  are  fourteen  varieties.  Continue  to  collect,  till 
you  can  delight  yourself  with — shall  we  say,  a  hundred? 
but,  first  of  all,  abundantly  illustrate  the  small  number 
which  we  have  succeeded  in  amassing.  A  small  num- 
ber, yet  this  is  the  fullest  treatise  on  tropes  that  ever 
the  English  or  any  literature  has  seen. 

Before  leaving  this  part  of  our  field,  we  inquire,  whence 
do  tropes  arise  ?  Affinities,  the  laws  of  association,  run 
through  them  all ;  and  actual  fittings  and  adaptations 
fused  all  through  mind  and  matter  by  Him  who  is  their 
common  Author.  It  is  the  peculiarity  of  Wordsworth, 
for  instance,  that  he  perceives  so  clearly  and  widely  the 
affinities  between  man  and  matter,  and  between  these 
twain  and  the  pervading  Thinker.  All  true  poets  are 
naturally  eager  for  relationships  that  really  exist ;  they 
are  therefore  keen  to  discover  truths ;  it  is  the  very  office 
of  imagination  to  exhibit  these  subtle,  beautiful  points 
of  connection ;  while  passion  is  equally  busy,  outward 
objects  reflecting  back  our  own  grief  or  joy.  Hear  Bun- 
yan  cry: 

"  I  lifted  up  my  head,  and  methought  I  saw  as  if  the  sun 
that  shined  in  the  heavens  did  grudge  to  give  me  light ;  as  if 
the  very  stones  on  the  street,  and  tiles  on  the  houses,  did  band 
themselves  against  me." 

Listen  to  Lear  as  he  looks  up  to  the  heavens,  frenzied 
with  lightnings,  and  implores  them  to  take  part  with 
him  in  his  wrongs : 

"  For  ye,  too,  ye  Heavens,  are  old  !" 


i 


228          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Passion  and  poesy  thus  bend  the  inward  depths  of 
man's  heart  with  stern  sublimities ;  with  the  winning 
beauties,  with  the  crash  or  with  the  hush  of  nature, 
whose  meanings  are  innumerable ;  and  the  heart  and  the 
fancy  prove  to  be  informing  powers,  that  give  animation 
and  deciphering  to  all  things.  Accept  from  Richard 
Coe  a  sample  of  this  sacred  art  of  the  bard,  whereby  he 
can  read  Nature's  heart : 

"  Falleth  now  from  off  a  tree 

A  wither'd  leaf; 
This  the  lesson  taught  to  me — 

1  Life  is  brief!' 
Hear  it  say : 

*  Mortal,  soon  thou'lt  follow  me 
To  decay.' 

"  Mounteth  now  on  wings  of  air 

To  the  sky, 
A  little  dew-drop,  pure  and  clear, 

Far  up  on  high. 
Hear  it  say : 

*  All  above  the  earth  is  fair ; 

Watch  and  pray ! 
Night  or  sorrow  comes  not  here; 
JTis  perfect  day  !' " 

At  the  basis  of  every  metonymy,  or  change  of  noun, 
and  of  every  trope,  or  change  of  adjective,  lies  some  af- 
finity; this  affinity  a  common  eye  sees  not,  but  it  is 
there,  if  the  trope  or  metonymy  is  worth  aught.  "  All 
things  talk  thoughts"  to  the  man  of  genius;  he  sur- 
passes others  by  a  greater  power  of  interpreting  nature, 
and  reading  beauty,  truth,  and  God  there.  Grand  mean- 
ings throng  in  all  things  to  grand  souls ;  for  the  grand 
meanings  are  there.  As  it  would  be  fatuous  to  dream 
that  Milton  could  compose  a  book  without  filling -it  to 
overflow  with  Miltonic  thoughts,  so  it  were  incompar- 
ably more  fatuous  to  dream  that  Jehovah  composed  his 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  229 

great  book,  the  External  Universe,  without  crowding  it 
with -his  thoughts.  Metonymies,  therefore,  and  tropes 
will  ever  be  new ;  poesy  will  never  run  out ;  for  the  in- 
tellect and  the  heart  of  God  are  inexhaustible ;  he  hath 
purposely  flung  every  where  materials  to  feed  inspired 
thoughts. 

A  false  religion  is  sure  to  be  a  hinderance  to  noble 
writing,  however  wondrous  the  inimitable  good  taste  of 
the  writer.  No  Athenian  has  given  us  any  description 
of  the  noble  view  from  the  Acropolis ;  nor  any  Roman 
of  the  Alps,  of  the  Bay  of  Naples,  or  of  those  Italian 
lakes  so  unsurpassed  in  their  melting  charm.  By  a 
throng  of  wood-nymphs ;  of  dryads,  naiads,  and  satyrs,  of 
nereids  and  oreads ;  of  gods  and  goddesses,  Nature  was 
almost  mobbed  out  of  sight.  When  the  admirable  Vir- 
gil has  to  describe  Mount  Atlas,  what  a  worse  than  fail- 
ure !  He  speaks  of  him  as  a  being  whose  head  is  shaggy 
with  pines,  and  whose  shoulders  are  covered  with  snow— 
the  pines  being  his  locks,  the  snow  his  mantle;  whereas, 
in  Titanic  truth,  the  top  of  that,  and  of  every  mountain 
of  the  first  class,  is  snow-clad,  while  the  woods  grow  far- 
ther down.  Great  mountains  stand  before  God  with 
their  heads  uncovered.  Such  violence  to  Nature  does 
Mythology  lead  a  great  poet  to  commit.  In  contrast 
with  which,  we  prescribe  a  most  beautiful  and  wonder- 
fully suggestive  exercise :  Draw  up  a  full  list  of  all  the 
very  various  outward  objects  that  our  Jesus — the  Rep- 
resentative Man  of  the  New  Age — made  use  of,  as  illus- 
trations and  trope-materials :  such  as  the  lily,  the  rock, 
the  fountain,  the  pearl,  the  net,  the  mother -hen,  the 
eagle,  the  sunset-cloud,  .the  torrent,  the  sower,  the  hill, 
the  sun,  the  rain,  the  moth,  the  rust,  the  salt,  the  eye, 
the  wheat ;  the  harvest,  ripening  in  the  autumn.  Even 
the  classic  influence  kept  men  away,  in  large  part,  from 
nature ;  Christ  led  men  back  to  it ;  and  to  the  innumer- 
able tropes,  metonymies,  and  similes  that  thence  have 
their  suggestion. 


Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Job  v.,  26 ;  vi.,  1 5-20 ;  vii.,  7,  9 ;  viii.,  11-15.  Psa-  *•»  3» 
4;  cxxxiii.  Jer.  xxxi.,  12. 

We  add  here  an  important  reflection :  In  arranging 
figures,  three  heads  of  arrangement  at  once  suggest 
themselves — Figures  of  Similarity,  Figures  of  Contigu- 
ity, Figures  of  Contrast.  A  fourth  class,  such  as  Inter- 
rogation, Exclamation,  Apostrophe,  instead  of  being 
departures  from  the  ordinary  application  of  words,  are 
departures  from  the  ordinary  structure  of  sentences. 
But  we  might  as  well  expect  to  be  able  to  reduce,  under 
four  or  under  fifty  classes,  all  the  varieties  into  which  the 
spray  of  the  sea  is  tossed  by  the  wind,  as  to  be  able  to 
reduce  all  the  very  numerous  varieties  into  which  lan- 
guage is  whirled  by-  the  agitations  of  the  mind.  Mark 
it  well,  that  the  trope  contains  in  its  single  self  many 
varieties  of  linguistic  form,  just  as  the  metonymy  does. 
Unless  you  fully  appreciate  this  fact,  you  are  by  no 
means  sufficiently  awake  to  the  rich  susceptibilities  of 
language. 

In  taking  our  final  leave  of  tropes,  we  once  more  urge 
on  literary  men  the  adoption  of  the  reform  suggested  by 
us.  Unless  this  improvement  in  the  nomenclature  be 
admitted,  there  will  be  an  unnecessary  appellation  in- 
truded on  the  metonymy,  while  "  change  of  adjective  " 
will  be  destitute  of  an  appellation  devoted  solely  to  it- 
self. But  is  "  change  of  adjective  "  deserving  of  a  name 
all  to  itself?  This  chapter  presents  you  with  a  sufficient 
reply.  These  adjectival  changes  are  innumerable;  and 
they  are  most  susceptible  of  exquisite  delicacy  and  beau- 
ty. Let  us  welcome  them,  then,  to  a  separate  niche  in 
the  Pantheon  of  Rhetoric.  And  never  can  a  depart- 
ment of  thought  conquer  for  itself  a  reputable  place  in 
literature  till  its  nomenclature  is  strictly  arranged  and 
defined.  One  name  for  one  thing,  and  no  more.  Let 
change  of  noun  mean  metonymy;  let  change  of  adjective 
mean  trope. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  231 


CHAPTER  XI. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 
PART    SIXTH. 

Hypocatastasis  or  Implication.  —  Epanarthosis  or  Correc- 
tion.— Anamnesis  or  Recalling. — Aposiopesis  or  Sudden 
Silence. — Sudden  Self -interruption. — Emblem. 

XLI.  HYPOCATASTASIS  is  now  before  us ;  that  is, 
Implication :  unnamed,  undiscriminated  by  literary  men 
in  general  —  an  humbling  and  extraordinary  proof  of 
the  wretched  neglect  into  which  this  subject  has  fall- 
en. This  most  beautiful  and  far-reaching  figure  had 
a  name  in  Quintilian's  day;  scarce  any  one  knows  of 
it  by  a  distinct  name  in  our  day,  or  since  Addison's 
time,  at  latest.  Implied  resemblance  —  a  resemblance 
not  stated  expressly,  but  taken  for  granted.  The  Sav- 
iour's favorite  figures  were  interrogation  and  implication. 
If  metaphor  be  ofttimes  more  forcible  than  simile,  im- 
plication can  be  more  forcible  than  metaphor;  so  that 
no  point  is  better  fitted  to  arouse  to  a  vivid  conscious- 
ness of  the  marvelous  capabilities  of  English,  those  who 
hitherto  have  no  adequate  conception  of  what  a  won- 
drous thing  our  language  is. 

An  implication  is  an  implied  metaphor  or  an  implied 
simile.  Thus  Southey : 

"  No  palm-grove  islanded  amid  the  waste." 

It  is  implied  that  the  wide  desert  is  an  ocean,  or  is  like 
an  ocean.     Yet  as  the  adjective,  islanded,  is  not  turned 


232          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter atiire. 

aside  from  such  a  word  as  it  originally  fits,  it  is  not  a 
trope  that  is  before  us ;  another  and  distinct  name  is  de- 
manded to  classify  such  a  usage.  Heeren  discourses 
sublimely  of  Persepolis — 

"Rising  above  the  deluge  of  years;" 

whereby  is  implied  that  years  sweep  over  the  loftiest 
edifices  of  the  past  as  did  the  flood  over  the  mountain- 
peaks.  Frederick  Tennyson,  brother  of  the  laureate, 
sings : 

"  The  vales  are  surging  with  the  grain." 

A  simile  or  resemblance  is  implied  between  fields  wav- 
ing with  grain  and  a  full  sea  with  its  surges.  Washing- 
ton Irving  draws  a  picture  of  his  second  Dutch  Gover- 
nor, William  the  Testy: 

"  He  was  some  such  a  little  Dutchman  as  we  may  now  and 
then  see  stumping  briskly  about  the  streets  of  our  city,  in  a 
broad-skirted  coat,  with  huge  buttons,  an  old-fashioned  cocked 
hat  stuck  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  a  cane  as  high  as  his 
chin.  His  visage  was  broad  and  his  features  sharp;  his  nose 
turned  up  with  the  most  petulant  curl ;  his  cheeks  were  scorch- 
ed into  a  dusky  red,  doubtless  in  consequence  of  the  neighbor- 
hood of  his  fierce  little  gray  eyes,  through  which  his  torrid 
soul  beamed  with  tropical  fervor." 

It  is  not  asseverated,  simile-fashion,  that  his  soul  was 
like  the  tropics,  nor,  metaphor-wise,  that  his  soul  was  the 
tropics:  the  simile  is  implied.  Matt,  iii.,  8,  10,  12;  v., 
29,  30;  vii.,  3-6;  xvi.,  6,  12;  Mark  L,  17.  Turn  to  the 
closing  lines  of  the  "  Pleasures  of  Memory,"  the  leading 
poem  of  Samuel  Rogers,  banker  and  poet.  The  implied 
similes  are  thick  inlaid  : 

"  Hail,  Memory,  hail !  In  thy  exhaustless  mine, 
From  age  to  age,  unnumbered  treasures  shine. 
Thought  and  her  shadowy  brood  thy  call  obey, 
And  Place  and  Time  are  subject  to  thy  sway; 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  233 

Thy  pleasures  most  we  feel  when  most  alone — 
The  only  pleasures  we  can  call  our  own. 
Lighter  than  air  Hope's  summer  visions  die 
If  but  a  fleeting  cloud  obscure  the  sky; 
If  but  a  beam  of  sober  reason  play, 
Lo,  Fancy's  fairy  frost-work  melts  away ! 
But  can  the  wiles  of  art,  the  grasp  of  power, 
Snatch  the  rich  relics  of  a  well-spent  hour? 
These,  when  the  trembling  spirit  wings  her  flight, 
Pour  round  her  path  a  stream  of  living  light; 
And  gild  those  pure  and  perfect  realms  of  rest, 
Where  Virtue  triumphs  and  her  sons  are  blest." 

In  a  companion-piece  to  this,  Campbell's  "  Pleasures 
of  Hope,"  you  will  find  implication  abounding  as  much. 
In  the  closing  lines: 

"  Eternal  Hope  !     When  yonder  spheres  sublime 
Pealed  their  first  notes  to  sound  the  march  of  Time, 
Thy  joyous  youth  began ;  but  not  to  fade 
When  all  the  sister  planets  have  decayed; 
When  wrapt  in  fire  the  realms  of  ether  glow, 
And  Heaven's  last  thunder  shakes  the  world  below, 
Thou,  undismayed,  shall  o'er  the  ruins  smile, 
And  light  thy  torch  at  Nature's  funeral  pile." 

Here  are  a  class  of  ornaments  to  style,  deep  imbedded 
in  it,  that  are  as  ethereal  as  the  down  of  the  peach  or 
blush  of  the  primrose.  A  ballad,  much  renowned,  by 
John  Lowe,  opens  thus: 

"  The  moon  had  climb'd  the  highest  hill 

That  rises  o'er  the  source  of  Dee, 
And  from  its  eastern  summit  shed 

A  silver  light  on  tower  and  tree, 
When  Mary  laid  her  clown  to  sleep, 

Her  thoughts  on  Sandy  far  at  sea; 
When  soft  and  low  a  voice  was  heard — 

4  Sweet  Mary,  weep  no  more  for  me.'  " 

If  Lowe  had  told  us  that  the  moon's  light  was  like  sil- 


234          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

ver,  he  would  have  presented  us  with  a  simile  ;  if  he  had 
informed  us  that  it  was  silver,  this  would  have  been  a 
metaphor ;  as  it  is,  we  have  neither  the  one  nor  the  other, 
nor  yet  a  metonymy,  for  it  lies  not  in  a  noun ;  but  in  an 
adjective,  not  subjected  to  a  turn  or  trope.  It  is  an 
"  implied  simile  or  metaphor,"  there  being  a  refined  de- 
light in  the  reader's  making  the  application  for  himself. 
We  quote  the  famous  speech  of  the  Rev.  Sydney  Smith 
in  favor  of  Reform  in  the  British  House  of  Commons: 

"  I  do  not  mean  to  be  disrespectful ;  but  the  attempt  of  the 
Lords  to  stop  the  progress  of  reform  reminds  me  very  forcibly 
of  the  great  storm  of  Sidmouth,  and  of  the  conduct  of  the  ex- 
cellent Mrs.  Partington  on  that  occasion.  In  the  winter  of 
1824  there  set  in  a  great  flood  upon  that  town;  the  tide  rose 
to  an  incredible  height ;  the  waves  rushed  in  upon  the  houses, 
and  every  thing  was  threatened  with  destruction.  In  the  midst 
of  this  sublime  and  terrible  storm,  Dame  Partington,  who  lived 
upon  the  beach,  was  seen  at  the  door  of  her  house,  with  mop  and 
pattens,  trundling  the  mop,  squeezing  out  the  sea-water,  and  vig- 
orously pushing  away  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  The  Atlantic  was 
roused;  Mrs.  Partington's  spirit  was  up ;  but  I  need  not  tell  you 
the  contest  was  unequal.  The  Atlantic  Ocean  beat  Mrs.  Part- 
ington. She  was  excellent  at  a  slop  or  a  puddle ;  but  she  should 
not  have  meddled  with  a  tempest.  Gentlemen,  be  at  your  ease; 
be  quiet  and  steady.  You  will  beat  Mrs.  Partington." 

At  a  time  when  a  nation's  passions  were  roused,  this 
hypocatastasis,  in  which  the  wit  says  not  that  the  House 
of  Lords  was  the  dame,  nor  was  like  her,  set  all  England 
a-laughing,  and  helped  considerably  to  make  that  rev- 
olution a  bloodless  one. 

We  throw  together  a  few  implications,  without  com- 
ment: 

"  Life,  struck  sharp  on  Death, 
Makes  awful  lightning." — Mrs.  Browning. 

"America  is  as  yet  in  the  youth  and  gristle  of  her  strength." 
— Burke. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  235 

"America  is  rising  with  a  giant's  strength.  Its  bones  are 
yet  but  cartilages." — Fisher  Ames,  in  1794. 

"  When  a  bribe  is,  as  it  were,  cast  into  one  scale,  it  goes  pre- 
ponderating, and  forces  down  the  judgment  with  it;  and  no 
longer  he  who  does  this  reasons  about  any  thing  accurately  or 
soundly." 

This  is  from  the  oration  on  the  Peace  by  Demosthenes ; 
who  does  not  disdain,  you  perceive,  the  commonest  il- 
lustrations ;  and  who  was  exceedingly  far  from  the  folly 
of  thinking  that  men  are  not  responsible  for  their  rea- 
sonings and  their  beliefs.  How  often  is  the  judgment, 
like  a  scale  heavily  weighted  by  false  weights,  forced 
down  to  shameful  adjudications. 
Said  Dr.  Johnson: 

"An  elevated  genius  employed  about  little  things  appears 
like  the  sun  in  his  evening  declination;  he  remits  his  splendor, 
but  retains  his  magnitude,  and  pleases  more  though  he  dazzles 
less." 

No  beauty  in  this  passage,  were  it  not  that  a  real  anal- 
ogy did  exist  here.  The  words  are  full  of  poesy ;  but 
just  as  full  of  wisdom.  But  to  detect,  detain,  and  fix 
moral  or  intellectual  relations,  can  not  be  done  without 
using  many  an  analogy  sought  out  by  fancy ;  so  that  not 
great  poets  only,  but  great  thinkers,  need  to  possess,  and 
some  of  them  have  in  a  remarkable  degree  possessed,  a 
style  full  of  figures,  notable  examples  being  Lord  Bacon, 
Edmund  Burke,  Hugh  Miller,  and  Sir  David  Brewster. 
With  profound  truth  Madame  de  Stael  has  laid  down 
this  axiom : 

"Imagination,  so  far  from  being,  as  many  narrowly,  unthink- 
ingly deem,  a  faculty  that  deals  only  or  chiefly  in  illusions,  is 
as  mighty  a  discoverer  of  truths  as  judgment  itself  can  be." 

Young,  author  of  "  Night  Thoughts,"  remarks: 

"  When  we  dip  too  deep  in  pleasure,  we  always  stir  a  sedi- 
ment that  renders  it  impure  and  noxiqus." 


235         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

When  he  thus  says,  there  is  force  of  argument  in  what 
he  urges  as  well  as  aptness  of  illustration.  How  contin- 
ually Jehovah  himself  uses  implications.  In  Scripture, 
guilt  is  a  spotted,  leprous  garment ;  iniquity  is  the  treas- 
ures of  darkness ;  a  sinful  life  is  a  crooked  path,  or  a 
feeding  on  ashes ;  the  unslumbering  conscience  is  the 
worm,  the  snake,  that  never  dies ;  remorse  is  the  quench- 
less fire  in  the  breast  that  turns  eternity  into  flame ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  innocence  is  a  white  robe, 
washed  in  Christ's  blood ;  heaven  is  the  city  of  victor- 
palms  ;  and  all  these  analogies  are  referred  to,  very  often 
in  broad  statements,  but  also  in  allusions  and  implica- 
tions the  most  refined.  How  many  hypocatastases  in  the 
first  ten  chapters  of  Isaiah,  or  in  the  fifty-fifth ;  though 
often  the  more  ethereal  shade  of  meaning  has  escaped 
our  translators.  Thus  in  the  Greek  were  two  words  for 
white :  one  denoted  a  dead  white,  as  that  of  white  pa- 
per; the  other  a  living,  flashing,  glistening  white,  as  that 
of  a  diamond  or  a  star,  or  that  of  stainless  snow  in  the 
sunray;  and  it  is  the  latter  which  is  used  in  Rev.  iii.,  4. 
How  beautiful  an  expression  !  Those  in  heaven,  res- 
cued by  the  Deliverer,  walk  in  gleaming,  glistening 
white,  incarnated  in  star-glory. 

Of  course,  as  much  want  of  taste  may  be  betrayed  in 
implications  as  in  any  other  figure;  as  when  Washing- 
ton Irving  speaks  thus  of  rural  life  in  England  : 

"  While  it  has  banded  society  together,  it  has  implanted  in 
each  intermediate  link  a  spirit  of  independence." 

How  can  any  thing  be  planted  in  a  link ;  or  how  can  a 
spirit  be  planted  any  where  ? 

At  the  court  of  James  IV.  of  Scotland  flourished  Will- 
iam Dunbar,  a  poet  immeasurably  superior  to  any  of 
whom  England  could  boast  in  the  whole  dreary  one  hun- 
dred and  ninety  years  between  the  "  Canterbury  Tales" 
and  the  "  Faerie  Queene."  His,  an  eminently  beautiful 
paem — "  The  Merle  and  the  Nightingale."  The  Merle 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  237 

argues  human  love  to  be  best.  The  Nightingale  replies 
in  behalf  of  love  to  God.  Thus  mellifluously  she : 

"  A  Nightingale  with  sugar'd  notes  new, 
Whose  angel  feathers  as  the  peacock  shone. 
Her  sound  went  with  the  river  as  it  ran." 

Samuel  Daniel,  the  dramatist,  in  a  style  light,  sinewy, 
elegant,  gives  us  this  to  gather: 

"  He  that  of  such  a  height  hath  built  his  mind, 
And  rear'd  the  dwelling  of  his  thoughts  so  strong, 
As  neither  hope  nor  fear  can  shake  the  frame 
Of  his  resolved  powers;  nor  all  the  wind 
Of  vanity  or  malice  pierce  to  wrong 
His  settled  peace,  or  to  disturb  the  same — 
What  a  fair  seat  hath  he  from  whence  he  may 
The  boundless  wastes  and  wilds  of  man  survey." 

Of  the  imitators  of  Dr.  Johnson's  sounding  style,  Sir 
Walter  asked : 

"  Most  of  these  have  his  report,  but  which  of  them  carries 
his  bullet?" 

From  the  beautiful  ballad  "  Helen  of  Kirkconnel  "  we 
select  the  epithet  applied  to  that  young  lady  slain  at 
her  lover's  side: 

"  When  in  my  arms  Bird  Helen  dropt." 

In  illustration  of  which  sweet  expression,  perhaps  its 
source,  see  the  never  too  much  admired  and  wondered 
at,  S.,  "  Cymbeline,"  act  iv.,  scene  ii.,  Arviragus's  I5th 
speech,  1st  line. 

Miss  Mulock,  whose  prose  is  muscular  as  the  arm  of 
a  first-class  gladiator,  has  in  her  poetry,  of  one  over- 
pompous: 

"Your  Maggotship." 

Nay,  Thomas  Paine  gives  us  one  of  the  happiest  impli- 
cations; when,  while  Burke  is  all  preoccupied  with  the 


238          Might  arid  Mirth  of  Literature. 

disasters  that  crushed  the  French  aristocracy,  he  reminds1 
him  of  the  horrors  long  endured  by  the  common  peo- 
pie: 

"Mr.  B.  pities  the  plumage,  but  he  forgets  the  dying  bird." 

Two  implications,  of  kin  to  each  other,  we  have,  one 
from  Byron,  of  a  person  very  pretentious : 

"  All  his  goods  are  put  in  the  shop-window ;" 

another  from  Jerrold,  to  a  youth  eager  to  see  himself  in 
print: 

"  Be  advised  by  me,  young  man — don't  take  down  the  shut- 
ters till  there  is  something  in  the  window." 

Very  important  the  view  of  Passion  presented  by  John 
Foster,  in  his  most  invaluable  "  Essay  on  Decision  of 
Character" — worth  reading  once  a  year: 

"  The  whole  amount  of  Passion  of  which  any  mind,  with  im- 
portant transactions  before  it,  is  capable,  is  not  more  than 
enough  to  supply  interest  and  energy  to  its  practical  exertions; 
and  therefore  as  little  as  possible  of  this  sacred  fire  should 
be  expended  in  a  way  that  does  not  augment  the  force  of  ac- 
tion." 

How  absurd,  on  the  other  hand,  Cowley's  implied 
simile  of  one  early  famous : 

"  In  life's  fair  morn  his  fame  did  early  crow !" 

Most  renowned  once,  "  The  Divine  Weeks  "  of  Guil- 
laume  de  Sallust  du  Bartas,  a  French  nobleman  of  Henry 
IV.'s  court — going  through  thirty  editions  in  six  years ; 
translated  into  Italian,  German,  Latin,  and  English,  but 
destroyed  by  its  false  figures.  "  I  remember,  when  I  was 
a  boy,"  says  Dryden  in  the  Preface  to  his  "  Spanish  Friar," 
"  I  thought  inimitable  Spenser  a  mean  poet  in  compari- 
son with  Sylvester's  '  Du  Bartas/  and  was  wrapt  in  an 
ecstasy  when  I  read : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.      t  239 

" '  Now  when  the  winter's  keener  breath  began 
To  crystallize  the  Baltic  Ocean  (O-ce-ann  !), 
To  glaze  the  lakes,  to  bridle  up  the  floods, 
And  periwig  with  snow  the  bald-pate  woods.'  " 

Let  us  take  Dryden's  excellent  advice  in  that  passage ; 
let  us  see  that  our  thoughts  themselves  be  valuable ; 
for,  after  all,  the  thought  is  the  main  thing.  Taste,  too, 
is  very  capable  of  being  greatly  bettered  by  education. 
Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  the  painter,  was  deeply  disappoint- 
ed when  he  first  saw  the  works  of  Raphael  in  the  Vati- 
can— but  not  when  he  saw  them  the  twentieth  time.  "  I 
remember,"  says  Leslie,  in  his  admirable  "Autobiograph- 
ical Recollections,"  "  when  the  picture  of '  The  Ages,'  by 
Titian,  was  first  pointed  out  to  me  by  Allston  as  an  ex- 
quisite work,  I  thought  he  was  laughing  at  me."  In 
fine,  hypocatastasis  or  implication  is  a  figure  so  refined 
that  to  collect  a  good  hundred  of  them  would  of  itself 
go  a  considerable  way  to  furnish  you  with  the  needed 
culture  of  your  taste.  As  when  Camoens  (translated  by 
Mickle)  says : 

"  Honor  and  selfishness  are  never  found  in  the  same  sack." 

XLII.  We  hurry  on  to  Correction  or  Epanorthosis — 
the  recalling  of  an  expression  in  order  to  put  a  stronger  or 
a  more  guarded  one  in  its  place.  From  Charles  Sprague 
take  an  example  of  this  figure,  so  born  for  oratory,  from 
his  "  Lines  on  a  Picture :" 

"  O  it  is  life  !     Departed  days 
Fling  back  their  brightness  while  I  gaze; 
'Tis  Emma's  self — this  brow  so  fair, 
Half-curtained  in  this  glossy  hair. 
These  eyes,  the  very  home  of  love; 
The  dark  twin  arches  traced  above; 
These  red,  ripe  lips  that  almost  speak; 
The  fainter  blush  of  this  pure  cheek ; 
The  rose  and  lily's  beauteous  strife — 
It  is— ah  no  !  'tis  all  but  life." 


240          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Pierpont,  on  the  grave  of  a  sage,  bestows  on  you  a  su- 
perior instance : 

"  Nature's  priest,  how  pure  and  fervent 

Was  thy  worship  at  her  shrine. 
Friend  of  man  !  of  God  the  servant, 

Advocate  of  truths  divine. 
Taught  and  charm'd  as  by  no  other 

We  have  been  and  hoped  to  be; 
But  while  waiting  round  thee,  brother, 

For  thy  light,  'tis  dark  with  thee ! 
Dark  with  thee  ?     No  !     Thy  Creator, 

All  whose  creatures  and  whose  laws 
Thou  did'st  love,  shall  give  thee  greater 

Light  than  Earth's,  as  Earth  withdraws." 

In  Erskine's  speech  for  Hardy,  accused  of  high-trea-' 
son,  these  words  were  addressed  to  the  jury,  1794: 

"  If  you  can  say  this,  that  he  is  guilty,  upon  the  evidence,  it 
is  your  duty  to  say  so,  and  you  may  with  a  tranquil  conscience 
return  to  your  families,  though  by  your  judgment  the  unhappy 
object  of  it  must  return  no  more  to  his.  Alas,  gentlemen, 
what  do  I  say?  He  has  no  family  to  return  to.  The  affec- 
tionate partner  of  his  life  has  already  fallen  a  victim  to  the 
surprise  and  horror  which  attended  the  scene  now  transacting." 

See  John  xvi.,  32.    Rom.  viii.,  34.    Gal.  i.,  6;  iii.,4;  iv.,  9. 
John  Randolph,  of  Roanoke,  was  in  his  time  the  very 
impersonation  of  satire  in  debate.     On  one  occasion  he 
thus  declaimed : 

"  It  is  a  shame,  Mr.  President,  that  the  noble  bull-dogs  of  the 
administration  should  be  wasting  their  precious  time  in  worry- 
ing the  rats  of  the  opposition." 

Cries  of  order  interrupted  the  speaker ;  but  the  presi- 
dent sustained  him.  The  fierce  debater  resumed,  cor- 
recting himself — pointing  to  his  opponents  most  con- 
temptuously : 

"  Rats,  did  I  say  ?— mice  !  mice  !" 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  241 

John  Godfrey  von  Herder,  eminent  among  the  Ger- 
mans in  poetry  and  in  prose,  thus  speaks : 

"  Were  there  in  the  Bible  never  so  many  mistakes  of  geol- 
ogy, history,  astronomy,  and  the  like  (but  it  is  proved  that  there 
is  none — in  the  mean  time  we  will  assume  it),  yet  it  is  certain 
that  the  Bible  was  not  given  to  instruct  me  in  these  matters, 
but  only  in  regard  to  religion  and  virtue." 

Or  Dr.  Claus  Harms  speaks — a  distinguished  ornament 
of  the  German  pulpit ;  he  addresses  the  prosperous  un- 
godly : 

"  Fortunate  men,  I  envy  you  !  Nay,  no  irony  here  !  I  envy 
you  not,  for  your  rest  is  a  false  rest." 

John  Summerfield,  whose  career  as  a  preacher  was  so 
short  and  so  brilliant,  and  who  has  been  called  the  se- 
raphic Summerfield,  furnishes  this  : 

"  That  kingdom  whose  sceptre  once  swayed  the  world,  be- 
twixt whose  colossal  stride  all  nations  were  glad  to  creep  to 
find  themselves  dishonored  graves,  is  now  forgotten,  or  if  its 
recollection  be  preserved,  its  history  is  emphatically  called — 
« The  Decline  and  Fall.'  " 

We  leave  this  great  oratorical  figure  in  the  hands  of 
our  pulpit  guides ;  little  have  they  pondered  the  capa- 
bilities of  their  position  if  they  be  not  very  familiar  with 
it.  S.,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  act  iv.,  scene  v.,  lines  59-63. 

As  our  final  example  of  Correction — a  figure  which  all 
will  admit  to  be  very  noble,  and  which  demands  to  be 
frequently  used  by  the  orator,  in  even  his  highest  mo- 
ments— take  a  homely  instance,  selected  from  one  of 
those  most  amusing  books  on  Scottish  character,  by 
Dean  Ramsay,  Dean  of  Edinburgh,  a  great  favorite  in 
the  Edinburgh  society  of  our  day.  In  a  large  village 
in  the  Land  of  Cakes,  as  Scotland  is  gastronomically 
termed,  flourished  a  person  who  had  from  poverty  risen 
to  wealth,  whereof  he  was  proud.  In  his  later  years,  he 
occasionally  was  found,  though  never  in  a  loose,  yet 

Q 


242          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

sometimes  in  a  tight  condition.  Reeling  homeward  one 
summer  night,  he  fell  into  a  ditch,  where  he  was  discov- 
ered thus  communing  with  himself: 

"  Here  lies  one  thousand  pounds  a  year !" 

(Using,  observe,  without  borrowing  it  from  us — it  was 
quite  original  on  his  part — No.  14  of  our  list  of  metony- 
mies, the  thing  possessed  for  the  possessor.)  He  paused 
abruptly  for  a  moment.  Then,  correcting  himself,  he 
resumed : 

"  Hoot,  toot,  man.  Ye  should  hae  said,  when  ye  were  aboot 
ft,  here  lies  twa  thousand  a  year." 

XLIII.-  Anamnesis — that  is,  Recollection — is  merely 
one  special  form  of  Correction ;  the  sudden  calling  to 
mind  of  some  particular  that  was  overlooked — -in  reality, 
not  in  appearance.  As  suppose  a  Gospel  preacher  were 
to  cry,  as  we  heard  .one  lately,  as  he  was  summing  up  a 
discourse  on  God* 

"Hitherto  in  this  discourse  I  did  not  sufficiently  bear  in 
mind  one  momentous  consideration  peculiar  to  our  subject — it 
flashes  on  me  now.  When  I  address  you  about  Abraham  or 
Moses — he  of  whom  I  speak  is  absent ;  when  I  adventure  to 
speak  of  God — he  of  whom  I  speak  is  present,  to  see  with  what 
heart  I  speak  of  Him." 

But  be  it  no  pretended  forgetting.  Condescend  to  no 
sham  for  the  sake  of  effect.  With  ease  and  with  con- 
tempt will  your  hearers  see  through  your  hollowness. 

XLIV.  Sudden  Silence,  Aposiopesis — "the  Greeks," 
says  old  Puttenham,  "  call  him  the  figure  of  Silence ;" 
it  is  the  leaving  of  a  sentence  unfinished  in  consequence 
of  some  emotion  or  perception  of  the  mind  suddenly 
and  powerfully  intruding  upon  us.  Of  kin  it  is  to  Cor- 
rection. Thus,  in  the  First  Book  of  the  "  ^Eneid',"  Nep- 
tune is  threatening  the  Winds  with  vengeance  for  having, 
by  him  unlicensed,  upheaved  the  ocean  with  tempest : 

.  "Ye  winds,  whom  I — but  it  is  better  to  calm  the  billows." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  243 

A  speaker  thus  vividly  makes  us  feel  that  such  intense 
passion  burns  within  him  as  almost  carries  him  beyond 
the  bounds  of  reason,  but  yet  that  reason,  though  with 
difficulty,  regains  control.  See*  Luke  xix.,  42  ;  xiii.,  9. 
Take"  an  illustration  from  "The  Bride's  Tragedy,'-'  by 
Beddoes : 

"  And  must  I  hide  these  sweets  not  in  my  bosom — 
In  the  foul  earth  !     She  shudders  at  my  grasp ! 
Just  so  she  laid  her  head  across  my  bosom 
When  first — O  villain  !    Which  way  lies  the  grave  ?" 

XLV.  Sudden  Self -interruption  bears  close  resem- 
blance to  the  three  last;  when  in  broken  sentences  the 
eddying  perturbations  of  the  soul,  and  its  jarring  inward 
self-contradictions,  are  powerfully  set  forth.  Shake- 
speare, whom  let  the  young  orator  study  night  and  day 
to  learn  the  resources  of  eloquence,  gives  examples  in 
the  soliloquies  of"  Hamlet,"  which  seem  written  as  if  to 
show  how  utterly  the  human  spirit  defies  to  be  bound 
in  the  fetters  of  any  system  or  stiff  theory.  How  un- 
matched the  following: 

"  That  it  should  come  to  this ! 

But  two  months  dead  ! — nay,  not  so  much — not  two. 
So  excellent  a  king;  that  was,  to  this, 
Hyperion  to  a  satyr:   so  loving  to  my  mother, 
That  he  might  not  permit  the  winds  of  heaven 
Visit  her  face  too  roughly.     Heaven  and  earth ! 
Must  I  remember  ? .  .  .  And  yet,  within  a  month — 
Let  me  not  think  on't ! — Frailty,  thy  name  is  woman  ! 
A  little  month  ;  or  ere  those  shoes  were  old 
With  which  she  follow'd  my  poor  father's  body, 
Like  Niobe,  all  tears ; — why  she,  even  she — 
O  heaven  !  a  beast,  that  wants  discourse  of  reason, 
Would  have  mourn'd  longer — married  with  my  uncle, 
My  father's  brother;  but  no  more  like  my  father, 
Than  I  to  Hercules." 

An  instance  as  wondrous  —  that  is,  as  like  the  almost 


244         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

miraculous  reality  of  the  mind,  find  in  "  Lear,"  act  ii.,  scene 
iv.,  Gloster's  1st  speech,  15  lines.  It  is  not  that  Shake- 
speare represents  the  human  heart.  No !  He  merely 
places  man  before  us,  and  lets  him  represent  himself. 

Sjr  James  Macintosh's  speech  for  Peltier  is  very  noble. 
He  asks  the  Attorney-General,  who  urged  the  punish- 
ment of  Peltier  for  a  libel  on  Bonaparte,  if  it  would  have 
been  wrong  to  expose,  in  the  strongest  manner,  certain 
deeds,  like  Napoleon's,  of  previous  French  rulers : 

"When  Carrier  ordered  five  hundred  children  under  four- 
teen years  of  age  to  be  shot,  the  greater  part  of  whom  escaped 
the  fire  from  their  size,  when  the  poor  victims  ran  for  protec- 
tion to  the  soldiers,  and  were  bayoneted  clinging  round  their 
knees,  would  my  friend — but  I  can  not  pursue  the  strain  of  in- 
terrogation. It  is  too  much.  It  would  be  an  outrage  to  my 
friend.  It  would  be  an  insult  to  human  nature." 

Turn  again  to  S.,  "  Winter's  Tale,"  act  iti.,  scene  ii., 
Paulina's  4th  speech,  line  ii.  "  Richard  III.,"  act  v., 
scene  iii.,  Richard's  loth  speech,  lines  i— 16.  Do  we  often 
hear  any  thing  so  intense  as  this  from  the  pulpit  ?  If  not, 
why  not  ?  Of  all  places  under  heaven,  it  is  worse  than 
inexcusable  that  the  grand  Christian  rostrum  should  be 
— tame.  A  hero  of  Shakespeare  can  say,  without  the 
least  exaggeration : 

"  A  thousand  hearts  are  great  within  my  bosom." 

Why  must  not  every  Christian  orator  feel  constrained 
to  as  much?  It  is  remarkably  evident  that  feelings 
which  would  prompt  such  a  whirl  of  interrogations  and 
breaks  as  Shakespeare  dashes  in  our  faces  would  make 
it  wholly  impossible  to  read  that  part  of  the  sermon,  and 
would  necessitate  a  delivery  as  wild,  abrupt,  untram- 
meled,  cataract-like,  as  the  style. 

XLVI.  Emblem,  a  thrilling  figure,  permit  us  to  con- 
dense within  an  extremely  brief  notice ;  of  which  the 
most  beautiful,  the  most  impressive  uses  might  be  made, 
far  more  frequently  than  is  done ;  such  a  volume  of  the 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  245 

poetic  and  of  pathos  can  be  hinted  in  a  single  emblem- 
atic object.  A  magnificent  instance — be  one  as  good  as 
a  hundred.  When  man  fell,  Milton  assures  us  that — 

"  Earth  trembled  from  her  entrails,  as  again 
In  pangs ;  and  Nature  gave  a  second  groan. 
Sky  lower'd ;  and,  muttering  thunder,  some  sad  drops 
Wept  at  completing  of  the  mortal  sin." 

Or  mark  the  force  of  the  emblematic  storm  in  Tenny- 
son's "  Sisters  ;"  a  howl  of  tempest  that  raves  and  mad- 
dens in  every  tiger-stanza : 

"I  kissed  his  eyelids  into  rest; 
His  ruddy  cheek  was  on  my  breast; 

The  wind  is  raging  in  turret  and  tree." 

Why,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  fresh  and  arousing,  is 
this  not  oftener  heard  from  the  pulpit  ?  While  the  sum- 
mer sunshine  through  the  high  church  windows  pours 
flashingly,  eloquent  for  God ;  or  over  the  bread  in  the 
sacrament  the  white  cloth  lies,  like  a  shroud  over  a 
corpse,  admirable  would  the  effect  be  of  leaving  the  em- 
blem unapplied ;  for  it  is  well  to  trust  something  to  the 
audience.  See  Dr.  Emmons,  page  375.  This  we  heard 
lately,  suppose — though  your  author  coins  it : 

"  How  sad  the  ruin  of  female  virtue  !  The  purest  thing  hath 
been  trampled  into  the  most  polluted !  The  other  day  the 
pure  snow  from  heaven  lay  on  the  pavement  of  a  street  near 
by.  How  it  glistened  in  the  beam  of  God !  Two  days  after, 
it  was  a  soiled  and  sullied  mass." 

From  the  Italian  of  Giambatista  Volpe  permit  your 
author  to  translate  for  you  the  following  sonnet,  consist- 
ing all  of  emblems : 

"AN   APPEAL   TO    YOUTH. 

"  To  battle  trained,  the  death-defying  steed 

Hastes  fearless  to  the  throng  and  din  of  fight. 
But  if  unrein'd  he  loiters  in  the  mead — 

Soon  fades  his  kindling  eye,  his  warrior  might. 


246          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Mirror  for  wood-nymph's  form,  the  streamlet  leads 

Down  from  the  mountain  lake  its  waves  of  light; 
If  sluggish  grow  their  course,  unsightly  weeds 

The  life  and  lustre  of  the  waters  blight. 
The  gallant  ship  defies  the  flashing  sea; 

But  lingering  in  the  dock,  the  moths  consume 
Heaven-pointing  mast  and  white  sail  fluttering  free. 

Ye  young!  be  warn'd;  lest  indolence  engloom 
Your  manhood  in  its  base  obscurity, 

And  never  laurel  round  your  forehead  bloom !" 

No  more  pathetic  instance  will  you  find  than  that  in 
the  "  Iliad,"  Book  II.,  308-332.  As  the  serpent  caught 
and  slaughtered  the  sparrow  and  her  brood  of  eight,  so 
were  the  Achaeans  to  storm  Troy  after  the  nine  years  of 
siege.  The  wise  Odysseus  dwelt  all  on  this,  in  a  most 
effective  speech  at  a  most  critical  moment.  How  in- 
structive this  old  and  triumphant  case  of  pleading  by 
emblem ! 

As  Theodore  Tilton  refers  to  the  Weird,  in  which  Mrs. 
Browning  excels,  we  quote  from  him : 

"  She  abounds  in  figures,  strong  and  striking,  sometimes 
strange  and  startling;  sometimes  grotesque  and  weird;  often, 
one  may  say,  unallowable;  but  always  having  a  piercing  point 
of  meaning  that  gives  warrant  for  their  singularity.  Swords 
have  not  keener  edges,  nor  flash  brighter  lights  than  the  sudden 
similes  drawn  by  this  poet's  hand.  She  illustrates  at  will  from 
nature,  art,  mythology,  history,  literature,  Scripture,  common 
life.  She  plucks  metaphors  wherever  they  grow,  and,  to  those 
who  have  eyes  to  see,  they  grow  every  where.  Occasionally, 
taking  for  granted  a  too  great  knowledge  on  the  part  of  her 
readers,  even  of  such  as  are  cultivated,  her  figures  are  covered 
with  dust  of  old  books,  and  their  meaning  is  hidden  in  a  vex- 
ing obscurity.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  her  sentences  often  are 
as  clear  as  ice,  and  have  a  lustre  of  prismatic  fires." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  247 


CHAPTER    XII. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    SEVENTH. 

The  Weird. —  The  Quaint. — Antithesis. — Epantiosis. — An- 
timetaboles. — Parison  or  Annomination. — Omoioteleuton. 
— Isocolon. — Commutation. 

XLVII.  WE  open  this  chapter  with  a  turn  of  writing 
capable  of  fine  adaptations,  yet  needing  only  short  no- 
tice— the  Weird ;  never  heretofore  registered  as  figura- 
tive, but  susceptible  of  effects  that  lie  deep,  and  which 
are  very  beautiful,  though  extremely  difficult  to  define. 
Often  we  feel  them  when  we  can  not  describe  them ;  as 
in  this  by  Horatius  Bonar,  a  sainted  Scottish  clergyman: 

"Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping, 

I  shall  be  soon. 

Beyond  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 
Beyond  the  waking  and  the  sleeping, 

I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 
Sweet  hope ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

"  Beyond  the  frost  chill  and  the  fever, 

I  shall  be  soon. 

Beyond  the  rock  waste  and  the  river, 
Beyond  the  ever  and  the  never, 

I  shall  be  soon. 
Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 
Sweet  hope ! 
Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come." 


248          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literatiire. 

If  devices  such  as  this,  partly  linguistic  and  partly  of 
thought,  be  hailed  by  you  as  figurative,  you  will  feel  that 
many  a  figure  goes  much  deeper  into  the  soul  than  it  is 
usual  to  imagine.  Study  the  poems  of  George  Herbert 
and  of  Francis  Quarles  for  abundant  examples,  and  the 
"  Ancient  Mariner"  and  the  "  Christabel  "  of  Coleridge, 
in  which  the  weird  is  not  only  the  pervading  spirit  of 
the  whole,  but  marks  many  of  the  individual  expressions. 
XLVIII.  The  Quaint  is  another  form  of  words  never 
before  deemed  figurative,  yet  fairly  claiming  so  to  be  cata- 
logued. George  H.  Clark  indulges  in  a  form,  shall  we 
say  of  words,  that  can  get  itself  arranged  under  not  any 
of  the  old  figures — when  he  sums  up  the  successful  re- 
sult of  a  friend's  application  for  legal  damages  for  a 
railway  accident  in  this  wise : 

"  And  he  writes  me  the  result 

In  his  quiet  way  as  follows: 
That  his  case  came  up  before 

A  bench  of  legal  scholars, 
Who  awarded  him  his  claim 

Of  $1500." 

XLIX.  But  let  us  not  innovate  too  much  at  a  time; 
let  us  get  back  among  the  regular  veterans.  We  turn 
your  attention  to  Antithesis,  called  Epantiosis,  when 
things  very  different  are  compared.  Throughout  the 
Book  of  Proverbs,  the  practical  man's  vade-mecum,  the 
Dictionary  of  Good  Sense,  fine  examples  every  where 
occur.  Consult  the  book  at  random.  Antithesis  is  well 
fitted  for  sarcasm,  epigram,  character-painting ;  its  strong- 
pointed  condensations  make  it  suit  the  climax  of  ora- 
tory ;  but  for  the  pathetic,  for  the  tragic  scenes  of  the 
drama,  it  has  too  labored  an  air.  In  the  writings  of  Dr. 
Johnson,  as  in  his  "  Rambler,"  it  is  often  false,  lying  chief- 
ly in  the  words ;  in  the  letters  of  the  political  thunderer, 
Junius,  it  is  real,  and  lies  in  the  images  and  thoughts. 
Byron  in  his  shorter  poems  is  constantly  using  it. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  249 

To  begin  with  Pope's  celebrated  contrast  of  Virgil 
and  Homer: 

"Homer  was  the  greater  genius, Virgil  the  better  artist;  in 
the  one  we  most  admire  the  man,  in  the  other  the  work.  Ho- 
mer hurries  us  with  a  commanding  impetuosity ;  Virgil  leads 
us  with  an  attractive  majesty.  Homer,  like  the  Nile,  pours 
out  his  riches  with  a  sudden  overflow;  Virgil,  like  a  river  in 
its  banks,  with  a  constant  stream." 

Equally  famous  Johnson's  comparison  of  Dryden  and 
Pope ;  we  quote  one  very  characteristic  sentence — John- 
son all  through : 

"  Dryden's  page  is  a  natural  field,  rising  into  inequalities, 
and  diversified  by  the  varied  exuberance  of  abundant  vegeta- 
tion. Pope's  is  the  velvet  lawn,  shaven  by  the  scythe  and 
leveled  by  the  roller." 

Or  turn  to  Dr.  Campbell's  "  Philosophy  of  Rhetoric/' 
a  book  which  it  would  be  almost  impossible  to  recom- 
mend too  highly: 

"  All  art  is  founded  on  science,  and  the  science  is  of  little 
value  that  does  not  serve  as  the  foundation  of  some  beneficial 
art.  On  the  most  sublime  of  all  sciences,  theology  and  ethics, 
is  built  the  most  important  of  all  arts — the  art  of  living." 

In  another  passage  he  has  this : 

"  Taste  consists  in  the  power  of  judging,  genius  in  the  pow- 
er of  execution.  Taste  appreciates,  genius  creates." 

Take  an  illustration  from  another  Scotchman,  Dr. 
Thomas  Chalmers,  from  his  magnificent  "  Astronomical 
Discourses ;"  where  he  contrasts  the  telescope  and  the 
microscope : 

"The  one  led  me  to  see  a  system  in  every  star;  the  other, 
leads  me  to  see  a  world  in  every  atom.     The  one  taught  me 
that  this  mighty  globe,  with  the  whole  burden  of  its  people  and 
of  its  countries,  is  but  a  grain  of  sand  in  the  high  field  of  im- 
mensity; the  other  teaches  me  that  every  grain  of  sand  may 


250          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

number  within  it  the  tribes  and  the  families  of  a  busy  popula- 
tion. The  one  told  me  of  the  insignificance  of  the  world  I 
tread  on;  the  other  redeems  it  from  all  its  insignificance,  for 
it  tells  me  that  in  the  leaves  of  every  forest,  and  in  the  flowers 
of  every  garden,  and  in  the  waters  of  every  rivulet,  there  are 
worlds  teeming  with  life,  and  numberless  as  the  glories  of  the 
firmament." 

How  excellently,  then,  antithesis  is  fitted,  in  the  pero- 
ration of  a  speech,  for  bringing  to  a  focus  a  number  of 
scattered  lights.  It  is  in  composition  what  the  sum- 
ming up  is,  exactly  opposite  each  other,  of  the  Dr.  and 
Cr.  columns  in  book-keeping — showing  at  a  glance  the 
state  of  the  whole  account.  Of  this  the  admirable,  the 
brilliant  Macaulay  is  a  great  master.  But  nothing  is 
heavier,  nothing  more  offensive  to  a  simple  and  manly 
taste  than  false  antithesis — the  fault  of  Seneca  among 
the  Latins,  of  Young's  "  Night  Thoughts  "  in  our  litera- 
ture. Never  be  this  figure  used  from  the  mere  love  of 
balancing  sentences ;  never  be  it  so  strong  as  to  exag- 
gerate and  convey  false  views. 

Of  a  figure  so  important  there  are  many  varieties  that 
have  been  named.  Words  are  repeated  and. opposed  in 
the  same  tense  or  case,  as  when  the  ancient  philosopher 
said: 

"  I  do  not  live  that  I  may  eat,  but  I  eat  that  I  may  live." 

This  the  Greeks  called — 

L.  Antimetabole. 

LI.  When  a  word  is  opposed  to  another  of  similar  or 
nearly  similar  sound  but  different  meaning,  this  is  Parison 
or  Annomination  ;  as  when  George  Buchanan,  whose 
Latin  version  of  the  Psalms  is  so  elegant,  the  renowned 
teacher  of  James  I.  of  England,  terms  the  monks  of  the 
time,  not  mendicant  monks,  but  manducant  monks. 

LII.  When  there  are  similar  syllable-endings  of  two 
or  more  successive  clauses  in  a  sentence,  there  being 
the  same  case  or  tense,  this  is  Omoioteleuton,  as  in 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  251 

Cicero's  "  Excessit,  evasit,  erupit ;"  or  in  Caesar's  part  of 
a  letter:  "  Veni,  vidi,  vici." 

LIII.  Isocolon  occurs  when  a  sentence  consists  of  mem- 
bers of  about  equal  length,  balanced  against  each  other, 
as  in  this  of  Cicero: 

"  How  triumphant  he,  did  impudence  avail  as  much  in  the 
senate  and  in  the  courts  of  justice,  as  audacity  prevailed  in  the 
country  and  in  the  wilds  of  the  province." 

LIV.  Commutation  is  the  turning  round  of  a  proposi- 
tion, as  thus : 

"  If  a  poem  is  a  speaking  picture,  a  picture  should  be  a  si- 
lent poem." 

.  This  subject  irresistibly  reminds  us  of  one  of  the  short- 
est and  one  of  the  best  of  books,  which  every  young  per- 
son should  buy — the  "  Essays  "  of  Lord  Bacon,  admir- 
ably edited  by  Archbishop  Whately ;  a  work  of  which 
Professor  Dugald  Stewart  has  said: 

"  It  may  be  read  from  beginning  to  end  in  a  few  hours,  and 
yet  after  the  twentieth  perusal  one  seldom  fails  to  remark  in  it 
something  overlooked  before." 

In  it  you  constantly  meet  such  gems  as  these : 

"  Reading  maketh  a  full  man,  conference  a  ready  man,  and 
writing  an  exact  man." 

But  while  all  agree  in  lauding  this  booklet,  the  ponder- 
ous tomes  of  Dr.  John  Owen,  which  some  laud  so  highly, 
are  by  Robert  Hall  branded  as  a  "  continent  of  mud." 
Yet  this  is  a  saying  inestimably  valuable,  by  Owen : 

"He  that  hath  slight  thoughts  of  sin,  never  had  great 
thoughts  of  God." 

Daniel  Defoe — to  whom  boyhood  owes  some  of  its 
brightest  hours,  author  of  the  unsurpassed  "  Robinson 
Crusoe  " — first  and  best  of  its  kind ;  many  a  volume  did 
he  pen ;  his  a  boundless  wealth  of  homely,  racy,  most 


252          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

vigorous  Saxon.  He  seems  almost  entitled  to  rank  as 
founder  of  our  periodical  literature ;  for  his  Review,  a 
sheet  that  appeared  twice  a  week,  preceded  the  Tattler 
of  Steele  and  Addison.  In  the  opening  of  his  "  True- 
born  Englishman"  are  these  four  lines  of  the  church 
and  the  theatre : 

"  Wherever  God  erects  a  house  of  prayer, 
The  devil  always  builds  a  chapel  there; 
And  'twill  be  found  upon  examination, 
The  latter  has  the  larger  congregation." 

To  many,  perhaps,  will  be  more  pleasing  the  lines  of 
Hannah  More,  a  lady  who  did  excellent  service  to  mo- 
rality and  religion  toward  the  close  of  the  last  century : 

"  Since  trifles  are  the  sum  of  human  things, 
And  half  our  misery  from  our  foibles  springs; 
Since  life's  best  joys  consist  in  peace  and  ease, 
And  though  but  few  can  serve,  yet  all  may  please — 
O  let  the  ungentle  spirit  learn  from  hence 
A  small  unkindness  is  a  great  offense. 
To  spread  large  bounties  though  we  wish  in  vain, 
Yet  all  may  shun  the  guilt  of  giving  pain." 

Or  take  this  most  weighty  saying  of  Bishop  Griswold 
• — a  double  antithesis : 

"  If  we  are  born  but  once,  we  shall  die  twice ;  but  if  we  are 
born  twice,  we  shall  die  but  once" — 

a  sentence  which  in  its  meaning  and  in  its  style  reminds 
us  of  the  writings  of  the  Latin  Father,  Augustine,  which 
run  over  with  the  noblest  truths  put  antithetically. 

Pope  Gregory  First  refuses  us  not  a  noble  antithe- 
sis: 

"  When  we  pray  for  everlasting  life  with  the  mouth,  and  do 
not  desire  it  in  the  heart,  our  cry  is  a  silence;  when  we  long 
for  it  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart,  our  silence  is  a  cry, 
which  does  not  reach  human  ears,  yet  fills  the  ears  of  God." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  253 

In  the  subjoined  from  Bayne's  valuable  "  Essays  "  we 
find  a  truth  of  high  value  in  criticism : 

"  Memory  and  imagination  are  essentially  distinct.  The  one 
is,  indeed,  the  handmaid  of  the  other— the  serviceable,  the  in- 
dispensable handmaid ;  but  the  handmaid  can  not  change 
places  with  the  mistress.  Memory  brings  the  materials  and 
lays  them  out;  it  may  be  in  systematic  arrangement;  it  may 
be  in  chaotic  disorder.  Imagination  looks  upon  them,  and 
they  are  grouped  into  unity  or  spring  into  life.  Mere  mechan- 
ical order  becomes  living  harmony;  and  disorder  subsides  into 
a  world.  All  those  lights  of  natural  beauty,  all  those  truths 
of  symmetry  and  form  which  the  Greek  imagination  embodied 
in  Aphrodite,  could  be  catalogued  and  counted  over  by  mem- 
ory. The  bend  of  the  sea-wave ;  the  white  foam  mantling  in 
the  sunlight  into  rose-bloom;  the  laughing  light  that  danced 
in  a  thousand  smiles  over  the  broad  front  of  Ocean,  might  all 
have  been  chronicled,  yet  remained  forever  dead  and  apart. 
But  imagination  comes  upon  the  scene.  Lo !  the  bending 
wave  is  a  moving  arm ;  the  snow  of  the  foam  and  the  tints 
of  its  rainbows  blend  in  a  living  cheek;  the  many-twinkling 
laughter  of  the  sea  is  gathered  into  the  witching  eye  of  Aphro- 
dite'." 

We  shall  next  take  a  few  examples  of  how  well-fitted 
this  great  figure  is  for  character-painting.  We  introduce 
to  you  one  whom  Byron,  too  flatteringly,  styled  "  Nat- 
ure's sternest  painter,  but  her  best,"  the  Rev.  George 
Crabbe,  whose  biography  will  present  to  you  as  hard  and 
as  victorious  a  life-battle,  through  extremest  difficulties, 
to  honor,  usefulness,  and  peace,  as  the  history  of  genius 
and  worth  ever  exhibited.  He  thus  delineates  the 
almshouse  physician : 

"  But  soon  a  loud  and  hasty  summons  calls, 
Shakes  the  thin  roof  and  echoes  round  the  walls ; 
Anon  a  figure  enters,  quaintly  neat, 
All  pride  and  business,  bustle  and  conceit; 
With  looks  unaltered  by  these  scenes  of  woe; 
With  speed  that,  entering,  speaks  his  haste  to  go. 


254          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

He  bids  the  gazing  throng  around  him  fly, 
And  carries  fate  and  physic  in  his  eye; 
A  potent  quack  long  versed  in  human  ills,  ' 
Who  first  insults  the  victim  whom  he  kills; 
Whose  murderous  hand  a  drowsy  bench  protect, 
And  whose  most  tender  mercy  is — neglect." 

Dryden's  character  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham 
let  next  flit  before  your  vision.  What  power  is  in 
it! 

"  A  man  so  various,  that  he  seem'd  to  be, 
Not  one,  but  all  mankind's  epitome. 
Stiff  in  opinion,  always  in  the  wrong; 
Was  every  thing  by  starts,  and  nothing  long — 
But  in  the  course  of  one  revolving  moon, 
Was  chemist,  fiddler,  statesman,  and  buffoon. 
Then  all  for  women,  rhyming,  dancing,  drinking, 
Besides  ten  thousand  freaks  that  died  in  thinking. 
Blest  madman,  who  could  every  hour  employ 
With  something  new  to  wish  or  to  enjoy. 
Railing  or  praises  were  his  usual  themes, 
And  both  to  show  his  judgment  in  extremes. 
So  over-violent  or  over-civil, 
That  every  man  with  him  was  God  or  devil. 
Squandering  of  wealth  was  his  peculiar  art; 
Nothing  went  unrewarded  but  desert." 

In  our  American  poesy  few  contrasts  more  striking 
than  that  which  reigns  in  Dana's  "  Buccaneer."  The 
island,  once  the  haunt  of  pirates  and  of  murder,  is  now 
a  home  of  Sabbath-bells  and  love : 

"  But  when  the  light  winds  lie  at  rest, 

And  on  the  glassy  heaving  sea 
The  black  duck  with  her  glossy  breast 

Sits  swinging  silently — 
How  beautiful !     No  ripples  break  the  reach, 
And  silvery  waves  go  noiseless  up  the  beach. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  255 

"  Nor  holy  bell,  nor  pastoral  bleat, 

In  former  days,  were  in  the  vale. 
Flapped  in  the  gale  the  pirate's  sheet. 

Curses  were  on  the  gale. 

Rich  goods  lay  on  the  sand,  and  murdered  men ; 
Pirate  and  wrecker  kept  their  revels  then." 

Let  us  now  betake  us  to  prose  for  a  few  illustrations. 
The  Rev.  Julius  Hare  gives  us  this: 

"  To  Adam  paradise  was  a  home ;  to  the  good  among  his 
descendants,  home  is  a  paradise." 

From  Bishop  Pearson  on  the  "  Creed "  we  take  the 
following : 

"  The  corn  by  which  we  live,  and  for  want  of  which  we  per- 
ish with  famine,  is  cast  upon  the  earth  and  buried  in  the 
ground,  with  a  design  that  it  may  corrupt,  and,  being  corrupt- 
ed, may  revive  and  multiply.  Our  bodies  are  fed  by  this  con- 
stant experiment,  and  we  continue  this  present  life  by  a  suc- 
cession of  resurrections.  And  is  it  imaginable  that  God  should 
thus  restore  all  things  to  man,  and  not  restore  man  to  him- 
self?" 

Of  gunpowder  and  printing,  the  sixth  American  Pres- 
ident writes  thus  ably : 

"  Perhaps  if  a  reflecting  man  were  required  to  point  out  the 
two  incidents  which  have  had  the  most  extensive  influence 
upon  the  history  of  nations  and  the  happiness  of  private  life 
since  the  foundation  of  Christianity,  he  would  name  gunpowder 
and  printing.  They  effected  a  total  revolution  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  two  great  engines  which  operate  upon  human  ac- 
tion— force  and  reason.  To  the  application  of  physical  force, 
gunpowder  gave  a  concentration  of  activity  and  energy  which 
had  never  before  been  known.  To  the  operation  of  intellectu- 
al power,  printing  added  the  advantages  of  multiplicity  and  dis- 
semination. By  the  composition  of  gunpowder,  matter  seemed 
sublimed  into  soul.  By  the  process  of  printing,  soul  derived 
new  vigor  by  the  vesture  of  matter." 


256          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Tassoni,  by  investing  his  antithesis  with  surprisal, 
adds  new  power  to  it,  as  in  his  "  Bucket :" 

"  Now  issuing  from  the  Ram  the  sun  forth  showers 

On  the  cold  clouds  his  radiant  archery; 
Earth  shone  in  turn  like  heaven,  the  skies  like  flowers ; 

And  every  wind  fell  sleeping  on  the  sea; 
Only  the  zephyr  with  his  gentle  powers 

Moved  the  soft  herbage  on  the  flowery  lea. 
Nightingales  murmur'd  still  their  loves  and  pities — 

And  jackasses  commenced  their  amorous  ditties." 

We  all  feel  at  once  how  sweet  is  the  contrast,  verbal 
and  in  fact,  stated  by  the  Latin  Father,  St.  Bernard,  Ab- 
bot of  Clairvaux : 

"God  is  without  passion, but  not  without  compassion." 

And  how  impressive  the  way  taken  in  the  subjoined  of 
urging  on  the  heart  the  sad  absence  of  the  loved,  by 
stating  the  presence  of  the  unloved  and  undesired;  when 
a  youth  slain  in  fight  returns  not  home — 

"  His  mother  from  the  window  looked, 

With  all  the  longing  of  a  mother; 
His  little  sister  weeping  walked 

The  greenwood  path  to  meet  her  brother. 
They  sought  him  east,  they  sought  him  west, 

They  sought  him  all  the  forest  thorough : 
They  only  saw — the  cloud  of  night; 

They  only  heard — the  roar  of  Yarrow." 

Bishop  Earle's  "  Microcosmography "  is  an  old  and 
forgotten  work  that  ought  to  be  republished.  How 
many  a  spirited  antithesis  in  the  following  portrait— 
"  The  Clown :" 

"The  plain  country  fellow  is  one  that  manures  the  ground 
well,  but  lets  himself  lie  fallow  and  untilled.  He  seems  to  have 
the  punishment  of  a  Nebuchadnezzar,  for  his  conversation  is 
among  beasts,  and  his  talons  none  of  the  shortest,  only  he  eats 
not  grass,  because  he  loves  not  sallets.  His  mind  is  not  much 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  257 

distracted  with  objects ;  but  if  a  good  fat  cow  come  in  his  way, 
he  stands  dumb  and  astonished  though  his  haste  be  never  so 
great,  and  will  fix  here  half  an  hour's  conversation.  His  habita- 
tion is  some  poor  thatched  roof,  distinguished  from  his  barn  by 
the  loop-holes  that  let  out  smoke ;  which  the  rain  had  long  since 
washed  through,  but  for  the  double  ceiling  of  bacon  which  has 
hung  there  from  his  grandsire's  time,  and  has  yet  to  make  rash- 
ers for  posterity.  His  dinner  is  his  other  work,  for  he  sweats  at 
it  as  much  as  at  his  labor;  he  is  a  terrible  fastener  on  a  piece 
of  beef.  He  is  capable  but  of  two  prayers — for  rain  and  fair 
weather.  His  compliment  with  his  neighbor  is  a  good  thump 
on  the  back.  He  is  sensible  of  no  calamity  but  the  burning 
of  a  stack  of  corn  or  the  overflowing  of  a  meadow,  and  thinks 
Noah's  flood  the  greatest  plague  that  ever  was,  not  because  it 
drowned  the  world,  but  because  it  spoiled  the  grass." 

An  instance  or  two  of  overdone  antithesis  may  now 
be  useful,  especially  if  from  an  author  apt  to  allure  us  to 
imitate  him  too  much.  In  the  following  from  Macau- 
lay's  wonderful  "History"  you  will  feel  an  excess  that 
makes  the  style  heavy  and  monotonous : 

"  Drawn  in  opposite  directions  by  the  charm  of  habit  and 
by  the  charm  of  novelty.  Two  rival  confederacies  of  states- 
men :  a  confederacy  zealous  for  authority  and  antiquity,  and  a 
confederacy  zealous  for  liberty  and  progress." 

Such  a  constant  see-saw  and  balancing  of  clauses — such 
an  artificial  contrast  and  repetition  of  sounds,  becomes 
a  great  blemish,  especially  in  a  long  historical  work. 

Our  treatment  of  this  figure  would  be  utterly  incom- 
plete, unless  attention  were  directed  to  the  circumstance, 
evident  in  many  of  the  above  extracts,  that  the  contrast 
may,  with  the  most  powerful  effect,  be  made  to  lie  in 
the  opposition  of  situations,  or  of  personal  characters. 
There  is  much  of  this  in  Nature ;  and  literature  should 
image  Nature.  There  is  the  shaggy  mountain  and  the 
smooth  clover-field.  There  is  the  rock,  storm-defiant; 
and  the  well,  moss-circled.  Thus  in  Spain's  greatest  lit- 

R 


258          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter at^lre. 

erary  product,  the  never-to-be-surpassed  "  Don  Quixote," 
by  Cervantes ;  there  runs  through  it  all  the  living  antith- 
eses, between  the  Don — the  disinterested,  dreamy  hero — 
and  Sancho  Panza,  sly,  selfish,  shrewd,  vulgar-minded, 
whose  dreams  are  never  of  glory,  but  of  beef  and  bacon, 
like  those  of  Cuddie  Headrigg.  Nothing  in  a  drama  can 
be  more  important  than  this  contrast  of  characters,  as 
when  in  Schiller's  great  tragedy  of  "  Wallenstein',"  so 
almost  incomparably  translated  by  Coleridge,  the  two 
lovers,  Max  and  Thekla,  shine  in  calm,  star-like  beauty, 
purity,  love,  in  touching  contrast  with  the  licentious  or 
ambitious  or  traitor-like  denizens  of  a  tumultuous  camp. 
No  writer  surpasses  Shakespeare  in  this.  The  old,  nar- 
row school  of  critics  long  derided  his  introducing  scenes 
of  broad  humor  into  his  tragedies,  into  even  his  four 
greatest  and  severest—"  Lear,"  "  Othello,"  "  Macbeth," 
"  Hamlet ;"  but,  despite  of  the  clever  shallowness  of  Vol- 
taire, all  now  admit  this  mingling  of  mirth  and  sorrow 
to  be  no  more  than  what  occurs  in  actual  life.  The  woe 
is  thus  deepened  by  contrast.  The  tears  have  their  fount 
close  to  the  laughter.  The  mad  pranks  of  the  fool  in 
"Lear"  reveal  more  clearly  the  utter  desolation  of  the 
outraged  and  houseless  king  and  father.  So  in  the  "  Win- 
ter (^ightjs  Tale,"  how  delightful  the  contrast  between 
the  former  part,  which  introduces  us  to  a  royal  court,  and 
the  latter  part,  which  leads  us  into  a  shepherd's  cottage, 
where  a  sweet  shepherdess  reigns  queen  over  hearts.  So 
it  is  in  "  Cymbeline."  But  let  us  select  a  specimen. 
Open  with  us  act  i.,  scene  vi.,  of  "  Macbeth."  After  wild 
incidents  of  storm  and  battle,  when  the  raven  shrieks 
till  he  is  hoarse,  and  supernatural  beings,  whose  wild, 
dim  forms  baffle  description  and  even  conception,  meet 
at  their  rites  of  hell,  on  a  heath,  in  thunder  and  in  hail, 
and  immediately  before  the  midnight  assassination  of  a 
generous  and  confiding  king,  the  following  dialogue  is 
inserted,  between  Duncan  and  Banquo,  as  they  arrive 
before  the  walls*of  Macbeth's  castle : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  259 

"Duncan.  This  castle  hath  a  pleasant  seat.     The  air 
Nimbly  and  sweetly  recommends  itself 
Unto  our  gentle  senses. 

"Banquo.  This  guest  of  summer, 

The  temple-haunting  martlet,  does  approve, 
By  his  loved  mansionry,  that  the  heaven's  breath 
Smells  wooingly  here.     No  jutty  frieze,  buttress, 
Nor  coigne  of  vantage,  but  this  bird  hath  made 
His  pendent  bed,  and  procreant  cradle.     Where  they 
Most  breed  and  haunt,  I  have  observed,  the  air 
Is  delicate." 

Excellent  the  remark  of  the  great  painter,  Sir  Joshua 
Reynolds,  on  this  passage : 

"  This  short  dialogue  has  always  appeared  to  me.  a  striking 
instance  of  what  in  painting  is  termed  repose." 

Similarly,  Homer,  after  a  battle,  while  the  blood  of  the 
slain  yet  lies  wet  on  the  ground,  often  introduces  a  rural 
image.  The  unsurpassed  picturings  of  harvest  joys  and 
of  the  operations  of  quiet  art,  in  his  description-  of  the 
figures  on  the  wondrous  shield  of  Achilles,  are  inter- 
posed so  as  to  have  the  finest  antithetic  effect. 

We  can  not  refrain  from  throwing  in  here  these  words 
of  strange  power  from  Clarence's  dream  in  Shakespeare. 
The  doomed  prince,  whose  death  is  near,  is  asleep ;  but 
sleepless  is  his  mind.  A  vision  flits  before  him  ;  thus  he 
tells  of  what  he  saw — what  a  glimpse  unsurpassed  ! 

"  There  came  wandering  by 
A  shadow  like  an  angel;  with  bright  hair 
Dabbled  in  blood." 

Let  us  throw  together  a  few  antitheses  given  in  few 
words.  Saith  H.W.  Beecher  of  our  Greatest  Friend: 

"  He  came  into  this  world,  not  by  the  palace  door,  but  by  the 
stable  door." 

Says  Jackson  the  painter : 

"  Whatever  is  worth  doing  for  the  sake  of  example,  is  worth 
doing  for  its  own  sake." 


260          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter atiire. 

From  De  la  Rue,  in  his  great  sermon,  "  The  Dying 
Sinner,"  hear  what  he  utters  of  a  death-bed  repentance : 

"  Produce  me  one  solitary  instance  from  Scripture.  St.  Ber- 
nard finds  but  one:  that  of  the  thief  upon  the  cross.  I  con- 
fess that  this  is  a  very  great  sinner,  but  is  he  a  hardened  sin- 
ner ?  This  moment  is  the  last  of  his  life ;  but,  says  Eusebius,  it 
is  the  first  of  his  calling.  You  blame  the  tardiness  of  his  con- 
version. I,  says  St.  Ambrose,  admire  the  promptitude  of  it." 

Halleck,  last  of  all,  enables  us  to  close  with  antithesis 
and  surprisal ;  leading  us  on  a  trip  to  Alnwick  Castle,  a 
seat  of  the  Dukes  of  Northumberland  : 

"  You'll  ask  if  yet  the  Percy  lives 

In  the  armed  pomp  of  feudal  state? 
The  present  representatives 

Of  Hotspur  and  his  gentle  Kate, 
Are  some  half-dozen  serving-men 
In  the  drab  coat  of  William  Penn; 
A  chambermaid,  whose  lip,  and  eye, 
And  cheek,  and  brown  hair,  bright  and  curling, 

Spoke  Nature's  aristocracy; 
And  one,  half  groom,  half  seneschal, 
Who  bowed  me  through  court,  bower,  and  hall, 
From  donjon-keep  to  turret-wall, 

For  ten  and  sixpence  sterling !" 

The  feeling  that,  in  closing  this  chapter,  ought  to  be 
left  on  the  mind  by  the  many  various  forms  of  excel- 
lence exemplified  by  so  many  quotations,  is  this — that 
the  choicest  things  in  literature  are  such  as  awaken  a 
response  in  the  common  heart.  The  "  Elegy  in  a  Coun- 
try Church-yard,"  by  Gray,  and  "  The  Cotter's  Satur- 
day Night,"  by  Burns,  are  two  of  such  pieces.  How  it 
enheartens  those  who  believe  in  the  progress  of  man  ;  in 
his  emancipation  from  war,  alcohol,  and  pollution,  to  see 
glorious  literature  and  the  Divine  Cross  manifestly  form- 
ing and  addressing  a  common  and  universal  brother- 
hood; that  the  tendency  to  diversities  of  language  is 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  261 

plainly  past  its  worst;  that  the  truths  of  Calvary  and 
the  loveliest  thoughts  of  the  finest  thinkers  are  work- 
ing in  harmony  to  expand  all  minds  into  the  enjoyment 
of  a  vast  body  of  common  faiths,  and  a  vast  body  of  in- 
tellectual products,  owned  in  common,  as  a  wealth  in 
which  all  can  exult. 

We  close  this  chapter  with  a  few  figures  put  together 
in  disorder,  purposely,  in  review. 

George  S.  Hillard  gives  us  this  passage: 

"  The  poet's  visions  of  evening  are  all  compact  of  tender 
and  soothing  images.  It  brings  the  wanderer  to  his  home,  the 
child  to  his  mother's  arms;  the  ox  to  his  stall,  and  the  weary 
laborer  to  his  rest.  *  But  to  the  gentle-hearted  youth  who  is 
throvyn  upon  the  rocks  of  a  pitiless  city,  and  stands  homeless 
amid  a  thousand  homes,  the  approach  of  evening  brings  with  it 
an  aching  sense  of  loneliness  and  desolation  which  comes  down 
upon  the  spirit  like  darkness  upon  the  earth.  In  this  mood  his 
best  impulses  become  a  snare  to  him,  and  he  is  led  astray  be- 
cause he  is  social,  affectionate,  sympathetic,  and  warm-hearted. 
If  there  be  a  young  man  thus  circumstanced  within  the  sound 
of  my  voice,  let  me  say  to  him  that  books  are  the  friends  of  the 
friendless,  and  that  a  library  is  a  home  of  the  homeless." 

Dr.  Thomas  Brown,  the  celebrated  successor  of  Pro- 
fessor Dugald  Stewart  in  Edinburgh,  thus  speaks : 

"  The  proud  look  down  upon  the  earth,  and  see  nothing  that 
creeps  upon  its  surface  more  noble  than  themselves.  The  hum- 
ble look  upward  to  their  God." 

Thomas  Randolph,  the  dramatist,  a  contemporary  of 
Shakespeare,  presents  us  with  this : 

"Justice  like  lightnings  ever  should  appear 
To  few  men's  ruin,  but  to  all  men's  fear." 

Mary  Howitt  bestows  on  us  a  very  deft  enallage — an 
adjective  for  a  noun.  His  taste  is  still  numb,  to  whom 
this  little  matter  imparts  not  an  exquisite  thrill;  he 


262          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

is  much  to  be  pitied,  whom  tiny  beauties  do  not  de- 
light: 

"  Little  streams  have  flowers  a  many, 
Graceful,  beautiful,  as  any." 

From  Robert  Southwell,  in  Elizabeth's  reign,  accept 
of  a  striking  ellipsis ;  he  died  on  the  scaffold : 

"  I  read  the  label  underneath, 

That  telleth  me  whereto  I  must; 
I  see  the  sentence  too  that  saith, 
Remember,  man,  thou  art  but  dust." 

A  teacher  of  Botany,  a  science  of  the  beautiful,  some- 
times throws  together  a  confusion  of  flowers,  and  asks 
the  students  to  classify  them.  Let  the  teacher  of  style 
occasionally  treat  figures  in  the  same  way.  He  will  find 
intentional  confusion  very  useful. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  263 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

FIGURES  OF  RHETORIC. 

PART    EIGHTH. 

Intentional  Discrepancy. — Nonsense. — Oxymoron,  or  Wise 
Folly.  — Euphemism. — Misnomer.  — Hyperbole.  — Change 
of  Usage. 

LV.  INTENTIONAL  DISCREPANCY  next  deserves  men- 
tion on  our  list  of  figures.  Thus  S. : 

"  The  work  we  have  in  hand, 
Most  bloody,  fiery,  and  most  terrible," 

Why  is  the  "most"  left  out  before  fiery?  With  delib- 
erate intention,  to  humor  our  love  of  variety ;  to  avoid 
a  monotonous  return  of  the  same  construction.  Who 
but  derives  an  agreeable  sensation  from  it  ?  S.,  "  Julius 
Caesar,"  act  ii.,  scene  i.,  Brutus's  2Oth  speech,  last  line. 
So  when  Octavius  Caesar,  in  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra," 
says: 

"  Farewell,  my  dearest  sister,  fare  thee  well." 

Again,  in  "  Hamlet,"  act  ii.,  scene  ii.,  lines  33,  34 ;  "  Meas- 
ure for  Measure,"  act  ii.,  scene  ii.,  Angelo's  I7th  speech, 
line  3. 

Denis  Florence  Maccarthy  thus  expostulates  in  be- 
half of  Ireland.  Mark  the  last  of  the  four  lines,  "And 
they  perish,"  instead  of"  and  they  are  perishing:" 

"They  are  dying — they  are  dying,  where  the  golden  corn  is 

growing; 

They  are  dying — they  are  dying,  where  the  crowded  herds 
are  lowing; 


264          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

They  are  gasping  for  existence  where  the  streams  of  life  are 

flowing; 
And  they  perish  of  the  plague  where  the  breeze  of  life  is 

blowing." 

LVI.  Nonsense ;  shall  we  dignify  thai:  with  a  place 
on  our  list  ?  Assuredly  will  vote  for  doing  so  every  one 
who  hath  at  all  duly  noticed  what  admirable  and  wise 
uses  it  can  be,  and  often  is,  put  to,  though  never  before 
in  rhetoric  has  it  been  so  highly  honored.  How  deeply 
does  clever  or  quaint  nonsense  abide  in  the  memory, 
and  for  how  many  a  decade — from  earliest  youth  to  age's 
most  venerable  years.  You  see  how  sweet  and  dear  it 
is  to  unsophisticated  human  nature,  in  the  fact  that,  in 
all  nations,  nurses  sing  nonsense  verses  to  the  babes  they 
fondle.  We  had  not  been  in  Savannah,  Georgia,  one  hour, 
till  we  heard  rhymes  that  had  been  familiar  to  us  on  the 
banks  of  the  Clyde ;  and  we  heard  them  with  delight : 

"  Zickaty,  dickaty,  deck, 
The  mouse  ran  up  the  clock. 
The  clock  struck  one, 
Down  the  mouse  run — 
Zickaty,  dickaty,  dock." 

See  Hood's  inimitable  letter  to  a  child,  quoted  farther 
on  in  this  chapter.     Burns  is  not  without  a  specimen : 

"  Ken  ye  aught  o'  Captain  Grose  ? 

Igo  and  ago. 
If  he's  'mang  his  freens  or  foes  ? 

Iram,  coram,  dago. 
Is  he  slain  by  Highlan'  bodies  ? 

Igo  and  ago ; 
And  eaten  like  a  wether-haggis  ? 

Iram,  coram,  dago." 

An  old  ballad  before  the  Reformation,  attacking  the 
Romish  clergy,  and  such  popular  ballads  were  numer- 
ous, has  for  its  refrain : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  265 

"  Sing  hey  trix, 
Trim  go  trix, 
Under  the  greenwood  tree." 

A  celebrated  political  ballad  of  William,  the  great  Lib- 
erator, is  known  by  a  nonsense  chorus : 

"Lilliburlero  bullin  a-la." 

LVII.  By  an  easy  transition, Wise  Folly,  or  Oxymoron, 
comes  next,  according  to  which  words  of  contrary  sig- 
nification are  united,  thus  producing  a  seeming  contra- 
diction ;  as  when  Horace  speaks  of  a  "  strenuous  idle- 
ness;" or  Ben  Jonson  of  the  "  liquid  marble"  of  poetry. 
Cicero,  Rome's  chief  of  orators,  says  to  Catiline : 

"Thy  country,  silent,  addresses  thee  thus." 
Milton  shows  to  Despair — 

"In  the  lowest  depth  a  lower  depth." 
Tennyson  lauds — 

"  A  deedful  life  j  a  silent  voice." 

The  voice,  silent  in  one  respect,  that  is,  to  the  outward 
ear,  speaks  to  the  admiring  minds  of  those  who  mark 
the  heavenward  course  of  a  life  that  abounds  in  noble 
deeds.  Addison,  in  his  well-known  hymn,  explains  the 
grounds  on  which  this  figure  rests : 

"  What  though  in  solemn  silence  all 
Move  round  the  dark  terrestrial  ball  ? 
What  though  no  real  voice  nor  sound 
Amidst  their  radiant  orbs  be  found  ? 
In  Reason's  ear  they  all  rejoice, 
And  utter  forth  a  glorious  voice ; 
Forever  singing  as  they  shine — 
'  The  Hand  that  made  us  is  divine.' " 

In  Sidney's  very  interesting  "  Life  of  the  Rev.  Row- 
land Hill,"  we  meet  with  this  statement  by  Hill,  very 
momentous: 


266          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Many  are  willing  to  be  justified,  but  desire  not  to  be  sancti- 
fied. Not  so  with  me.  I  can  say  of  justification  and  sancti- 
fication,  like  the  child  who  replied,  when  asked  which  he  loved 
best,  his  father  or  his  mother — '  I  love  them  both  best.'  " 

Or,  as  George  Macdonald  has  it : 
"Jesus  is  more  Man  than  any  man." 

John  Trumbull,  a  poet  of  the  Revolutionary  War,  is 
the  author  of  "  McFingal,"  an  imitation  of  "  Hudibras  " 
— a  very  able  one.  The  hero  is  a  Scotch  justice  of  the 
peace,  near  Boston ;  the  whole  three  cantos  are  very  in- 
teresting. Here  comes  a  good  oxymoron : 

"  Not  only  saw  he  all  that  was, 
But  much  that  never  came  to  pass — 
Whereby  all  prophets  far  outwent  he, 
Though  former  days  produced  a  plenty ; 
For  any  man  with  half  an  eye 
What  stands  before  him  may  espy; 
But  optics  sharp  it  needs,  I  ween, 
To  see  what  is  not  to  be  seen." 

Very  finely  expressed  was  Mrs.  Barbauld's  line,  ener- 
getic in  a  high  degree,  as  every  thing  of  hers  is.  Of  a 
night  of  stars,  when  not  a  wind  moves  the  leaves — when 
not  a  cloud  specks  the  moonlight  or  dims  the  dome,  she 
exclaims : 

"  How  deep  the  silence,  yet  how  loud  the  praise." 

Thomas  Hood,  in  another  vein,  informs  us  that  when 
Sally  Brown  beheld  young  Ben  hauled  off  to  sea  by  a 
press-gang,  she  cried,  after  fainting  and  coming  to  again : 

" '  And  is  he  gone  ?     And  is  he  gone  ?' 

She  cried,  and  wept  outright ; 
1  Then  I  will  to  the  water  go, 
And  see  him  out  of  sight.'  " 

Nor  does  Sir  Henry  Wotton  go  too  far  when  he  af- 
firms: 


Figiires  of  Rhetoric.  267 

"  How  happy  is  the  born  and  taught, 

That  serveth  not  another's  will; 
Whose  armor  is  his  honest  thought, 

And  simple  truth  his  utmost  skill. 
This  man  is  freed  from  servile  bands 

Of  hope  to  rise  or  fear  to  fall ; 
Lord  of  himself,  though  not  of  lands, 

And  having  nothing,  yet  hath  all." 

See  Matt,  xvi.,  25  ;  Mark  viii.,  35  ;  Isa.  Ixv.,  20. 

In  the  style  of  St.  Paul,  full  of  sudden  Demosthenic 
turns  and  condensations  of  thought,  some  very  daring 
oxymorons  meet  us ;  as  when  he  says : 

"  We  preach  Christ  crucified,  unto  the  Jews  a  stumbling- 
block  and  to  the  Greeks  foolishness;  but  the  foolishness  of 
God  is  wiser  than  men,  and  the  weakness  of  God  is  stronger 
than  men."  "When  I  am  weak,  then  am  I  strong."  "In 
nothing  am  I  behind  the  very  chiefest  apostles,  though  I  be 
nothing."  "  God  has  chosen  the  foolish  things  of  the  world  to 
confound  the  wise;  and  God  hath  chosen  the  weak  things  of 
the  world  to  confound  the  things  which  are  mighty,  and  base 
things  of  the  world  and  things  which  are  despised,  hath  God 
chosen,  and  things  which  are  not,  to  bring  to  naught  things  that 
are."  "Approving  ourselves  as  the  ministers  of  God;  as  de- 
ceivers, and  yet  true;  as  unknown,  and  yet  well-known ;  as 
dying,  and  behold  we  live;  as  sorrowful,  yet  always  rejoicing; 
as  poor,  yet  making  many  rich ;  as  having  nothing,  and  yet 
possessing  all  things." 

Nowhere  in  literature  do  we  find  stronger  examples  of 
a  soul  almost  overcharged  with  force,  working  through  a 
forceful  style,  than  in  the  writings  of  the  great  apostolic 
intellect.  Our  common  version  not  half  does  justice  to 
that  massiveness,  depth  of  meaning,  and  consummate 
mastery  of  all  rhetorical  resources,  by  which  is  character- 
ized the  style  of  this  Heaven-sent  Demosthenes,  who  yet 
depicted  himself  by  that  wondrous 'Greek  adjective  of 
\\iSjElahisteros  —  a  superlative  compared:  "  Less  than 
the  least."  The  humility  of  that  greatest  apostle  tries 


268          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

to  its  uttermost  the  powers  of  that  greatest  language. 
See  Rev.  xi.,  24 ;  Matt,  vi.,  23. 

A  fine  example  we  have  from  Coventry  Patmore,  who 
possesses  eminently  the  power  he  prays  for : 

"  Thou  Primal  Love,  who  grantest  wings 

And  voices  to  the  woodland  birds, 
Grant  me  the  power  of  saying  things 
Too  simple  and  too  sweet  for  words." 

An  historical  truth,  far  too  sadly  true,  is  that  of  Ed- 
mund Burke,  again  attested  by  Sedan  and  the  Com- 
mune: 

"  The  French  have  shown  themselves  the  greatest  architects 
of  ruin  that  have  hitherto  existed  in  the  world." 

And  weighty  that  bold  stanza  of  Dr.  Young  on  man's 
need  of  God,  and  dissatisfaction  till  he  finds  his  Father 
and  his  aim : 

"  Give  man  Earth's  empire — if  no  more, 

He's  beggar'd  and  undone ; 
Imprison'd  in  unbounded  space, 
Benighted  by  the  sun." 

Colonel  Higginson  says  wisely  of  Herbert  Spencer: 

"  His  is  what  Talleyrand  calls  the  weakness  of  omniscience, 
which  prompts  him  to  write  on  all  subjects." 

In  Bossuet's  "  Pulpit  Discourses,"  as  in  those  of  Mas- 
sillon  and  Bourdaloue,  are  many  of  the  noblest  senti- 
ments of  Christianity,  expressed  with  astonishing  sub- 
limity and  beauty.  Bossuet,  on  the  Death  of  Conde, 
speaks  of — 

"  Columns  which  appear  as  if  they  would  bear  to  heaven  the 
magnificent  evidence  of  our  emptiness." 

In  a  very  skillful  fable,  "  The  Mysterious  Stranger," 
by  Jane  Taylor,  the  hero  of  the  piece,  rejoicing  in  the 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  269 

hope  of  those  heavens  to  which  a  believing  death  is  the 
entrance,  exclaims : 

"What  a  favor  is  this  which  is  granted  me,  in  being  sent  to 
inhabit  a  planet  in  which  I  can  die." 

Miss  Martineau,  in  another  and  lower  vein  that  suits 
her,  in  her  "  Society  in  America,"  specifies  certain  Amer- 
icanisms that  may  rank  as  oxymorons ;  as  that  of  the 
sick  man  relieved  of  pain  but  left  very  weak,  who  said : 

"  I  am  powerful  weak,  but  cruel  easy." 

So  we  sometimes  hear  of  "  a  dreadful  fine  day."  Or  let 
us  enjoy  Coleridge's  reply  to  the  lady  who  asked  him  if 
he  believed  in  ghosts : 

"  No,  madam ;  I  have  seen  too  many  to  believe  in  them." 

Or,  once  more  ascending,  let  us  listen  to  Richard  Wat- 
son, the  great  Methodist,  when  he  says,  in  a  noble  ser- 
mon, "  Man  magnified  by  the  Divine  Regard :" 

"  Those  who  deny  immortality,  make  the  volume  close  at  the 
preface." 

And  again : 

"  Insects  and  reptiles,  the  rank  which  the  ambition  of  Infi- 
delity would  assign  to  man." 

Nay,  let  Dr.  Hitchcock  eloquently  mould  our  opin- 
ions: 

"The  Divine  Mind  is  the  ocean  from  which  all  truth  orig- 
inally sprang,  and  to  which  it  ultimately  returns.  To  trace  out 
the  shores  of  that  shoreless  sea;  to  measure  its  measureless 
extent,  and  to  fathom  its  unfathomable  depths,  will  be  the  noble 
and  joyous  work  of  eternal  ages." 

S.,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  act  iii.,  scene  v.,  Juliet's-  6th 
speech,  line  3. 

LVIII.  Euphemism,  or  the  Smooth  Handle,  is  a  figure 
much  employed  by  the  peculiarly  polite,  who  wish  to 


270          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

convey  a  harsh  truth  as  gently  as  they  can.  The  Latin 
word  for  thief  is  fur ;  so  they  called  a  thief  "  a  man  of 
three  letters."  2  Sam.  xviii.,  32.  A  delicate  instance 
occurs  in  the  "  Revenger's  Tragedy,"  by  Cyril  Tourneur. 
Castiga's  mother  and  brother  have  been  counseling  her 
to  abandon  herself  to  a  shameful  career.  Thereupon 
she  cries : 

"  False  !     I  defy  you  both. 
I  have  endured  you  with  an  ear  of  fire ; 
Your  tongues  have  struck  hot  irons  on  my  face. 
Mother  !  come  from  that  poisonous  woman  there  ! 
"Mother.  Where  ? 
"Cos.  Do  you  not  see  her?     She's  too  inward,  then." 

"  She's  too  inward,  then,"  is  a  softer  phrase  for  "  she  is 
thyself."  So  Burns  speaks  of — 

"  An  honest  wabster  to  his  trade, 
Whase  wife's  twa  neives  were  scarce  weel-bred." 

He  affirms  here,  euphemistically,  that  her  two  fists  were 
well  acquainted  with  her  husband's  ears. 

Colonel  Grahame,  of  Claverhouse,  afterward  Viscount 
Dundee,  too  well  known  to  Scottish  Presbyterians  as 
"  Bloody  Clavers,"  whose  courage  and  his  zeal  for  the 
bigoted  Stuart  kings  have  exalted  him  into  a  hero,  in 
the  view  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  and  Professor  Aytoun,  but 
whose  murderous  slaughter  of  a  godly  peasantry  should 
make  his  name  Satanic,  attacked  at  Drumclog  a  party 
of  country  people  met  for  worship  on  the  moor.  How- 
ever, they  were  men  who  trusted  in  God,  and  kept  their 
powder  dry.  As  he  galloped  off  in  ignominious  flight,  a 
clergyman,  Mr.  King,  whom  he  had  with  him  a  prisoner, 
but  whom  he  was  compelled  to  let  go,  shouted  after  the 
fleeing  hero-murderer : 

"Ho,  Colonel,  will  you  not  stay  for  the  afternoon's  sermon." 

"Afternoon's  sermon"  is  "a  smooth  handle"  put  on  an- 
other volley  of  Presbyterian  bullets. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  271 

LIX.  Misnomer,  as  we  venture  to  call  it,  may  be  used 
with  good  effect.  We  find  this  newly  named  figure  hon- 
ored by  our  Saviour's  use ;  for  what  figure  did  he  not 
use  ?  exhausting  all  appliances  of  language  to  reach  our 
consciences.  See  John  iv.,  16-18.  In  Shakespeare  it  is 
said  over  dead  Cleopatra : 

"  Now  boast  thee,  Death  !     In  thy  possession  lies 
A  lass  unparallel'd." 

Similarly  Romeo  says  of  the  flies  of  Verona,  who  were 
not  banished  from  that  fair  city,  while  he  was : 

"  They  are  free  men,  but  I  am  banished." 

LX.  Hyperbole,  or  Exaggeration,  we  come  to  now. 
See  Matt,  iii.,9;  Gal.  iv.,  14,  15;  Matt,  xix.,  24;  xxiii.,  24; 
Luke  xix.,  40,  44 ;  Ezek.  ii.,  9 ;  xxxii.,  4-6 ;  S.,  "  Antony 
and  Cleopatra,"  act  v.,  scene  ii.,  Cleopatra's  I3th  and  I4th 
speeches.  We  purposely  abstain  from  more  quotations 
from  him.  Shakespeare's  hyperboles  are  unspeakably 
beautiful  and  kingly ;  nay,  they  satisfy  our  idea  of  the 
language  of  an  archangel ;  be  stimulated  to  go  in  quest 
of  them  for  yourselves;  make  the  doing  so  one  entire 
exercise.  One  hundred  of  his  hyperboles.  We  give 
you,  instead,  one  from  the  dainty  Greek  singer  Anacre- 
on,  as  translated  by  Abraham  Cowley,  respecting  the 
grasshopper : 

"  Man  for  thee  doth  sow  and  plow, 
Farmer  he  and  landlord  thou. 
Thee  country  hinds  with  gladness  hear, 
Prophet  of  the  ripened  year." 

This  may  often  be  essentially  the  language  of  truth,  for 
that  which  is  an  exaggerated  statement  of  the  matter 
of  fact  may  be  no  more  than  a  fair  statement  of  the  mat- 
ter of  feeling ;  so  that,  without  hyperbole,  it  might  be 
impossible  to  show  the  strong  view  you  are  taking  of 
things — the  enthusiasm  that  hurries  you  along.  In  the 
Bible  itself  we  meet  many  striking  instances ;  as  might 


272          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

be  expected  in  a  glowing  Oriental  style.  Deut.  ix.,  I ; 
Job  xx.,  6,  7;  John  iv.,  21,  29.  Take  the  closing  verse 
of  John's  Gospel : 

"And  there  are  also  many  other  things  which  Jesus  did,  the 
which,  if  they  should  be  written  every  one,  I  suppose  that  even 
the  world  itself  could  not  contain  the  books  that  should  be 
written." 

The  defense  of  such  expressions  is  easy ;  it  is  proper  for 
the  Scripture  to  speak  in  a  way  natural  to  man.  It  is 
natural  to  man  to  speak  of  the  sun  rising  and  setting. 
Sir  Isaac  Newton  himself,  in  his  ordinary  talk,  did  the 
same ;  and  the  Bible  is  far  above  the  foppery  of  scien- 
tific terms  stuck  into  its  style,  which  breathes  the  unaf- 
fected homeliness  of  daily  life ;  yet  a  handful  of  narrow- 
minded  critics  object  because  the  Book,  meant  for  all 
the  world,  uses  the  language  of  common -sense,  and 
speaks  as  all  the  world  speaks.  That  hyperboles  come 
instinctively  to  us  all,  witness  how  often  we  use  them. 
We  say  of  a  great  talker,  "  There  is  no  end  of  his  talk ;" 
when  something  very  bad  is  done  by  a  man,  we  are  told 
that  every  body  is  down  on  him ;  Bridget  cries, "  I'll  be 
there  with  the  coals  in  less  than  no  time."  There  is, 
too,  the  close  of  our  letters,  "  Your  most  obedient  serv- 
ant ;"  nay,  there  is  the  French  style  of  hyper-politeness, 
"  I  am  charmed  and  ravished  to  see  you,  my  dearest 
friend."  Let  Fletcher's  "Faithful  Shepherdess"  afford 
us  a  string  of  examples : 

"  O  you  are  fairer  far 

Than  the  chaste  blushing  morn,  or  that  fair  star 
That  guides  the  wandering  seamen  through  the  deep ; 
Straighter  than  straightest  pine  upon  the  steep 
Head  of  an  aged  mountain ;  and  more  white 
Than  the  new  milk  we  strip  before  daylight 
From  the  full-freighted  bags  of  our  fair  flocks ; 
Your  hair  more  beautiful  than  those  hanging  locks 
Of  young  Apollo." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  273 

Mark  in  the  preceding  the  tasteful  choice  of  circum- 
stances ;  the  pellucid  elegance  of  the  language ;  its  spring- 
iness and  elasticity,  like  the  bound  of  the  roe  along  a 
moss-grown  forest  pathway ;  the  freedom  and  melody  of 
the  versification,  as  line  melts  into  line,  far  surpassing  the 
much  more  monotonous  melody  of  Pope.  Some  of  the 
poets  of  the  sixteenth  century  were  of  a  far  more  brill- 
iant rank  than  the  correct  drawing-room  writers  of  the 
eighteenth.  But  Thomson,  Cowper,  and  Burns  arose, 
and  talented  commonplace  disappeared. 

Hope's  "  Anastasius,  or  Memoirs  of  a  Modern  Greek," 
is  one  of  the  most  eloquent  novels  in  our  language. 
Anastasius  commits  a  murder;  and  thus  tells  us  how 
deep  was  his  remorse : 

"  In  the  silent  darkness  of  the  night  I  saw  the  pale  phantom 
of  my  friend  stalk  round  my  watchful  couch,  covered  with  gore 
and  dust;  and  during  even  the  unavailing  riots  of  the  day  I 
still  beheld  the  spectre  rise  over  the  festive  board,  glare  on  me 
with  piteous  look,  and  hand  me  whatever  I  attempted  to  reach. 
But  whatever  it  presented  seemed  blasted  by  its  touch.  To 
my  wine  it  gave  the  taste  of  blood;  and  to  my  bread  the  rank 
flavor  of  death." 

How  naturally,  then,  does  vehement  passion  color  its 
statements  with  hyperbole  !  Grammar  gives  us  but  three 
degrees  of  comparison — the  positive,  the  comparative, 
the  superlative.  But  passion  is  ever  seeking  for  a  fourth ; 
and  hyperbole  comes  to  the  aid  of  passion  to  help  it  to 
utter  all  its  laboring  breast.  But  wit  and  burlesque  are 
as  much  indebted  to  this  figure  as  vehement  emotion  is. 
In  Sheridan's  sparkling  opera,  the  "  Duenna,"  Isaac  says 
of  a  proud  beauty : 

"The  very  rustling  of  her  silks  has  a  disdainful  sound." 
He  describes  a  certain  lady  as — 

"An  old  woman  endeavoring  to  put  herself  back  into  a  girl;" 
while  another  lady  he  calls — 


274         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  A  pretty  woman  studying  looks,  and  trying  to  recollect  an 
ogle,  like  Lady  A.,  who  has  learned  to  play  her  eyelids  like 
Venetian  blinds." 

Said  one  of  his  deacons  to  the  Rev.  Robert  Hall : 

"  I  understand  you  are  going  to  marry  Miss  M." — "  I  marry 
Miss  M. !"  quoth  the  eloquent  preacher;  "I  would  as  soon 
marry  Beelzebub's  eldest  daughter,  and  go  home  and  live  with 
the  old  folks." 

In  Ireland  a  man  very  sharp  is  said  to  be  as  shrewd 
as  the  famous  fox  of  Ballybotherem,  that  read  the  news- 
papers every  morning  to  find  out  where  the  hounds  were 
to  meet.  Rabelais,  who  had  some  wit,  and  an  unlimited 
supply  of  the  abominable,  introduces  to  his  readers  the 
Giant  Gorgantua,  as  the  gentleman  who  often  ate — 

"  Six  pilgrims  in  a  salad." 

Butler  assures  us  that  Hudibras  was  chokeful  of  learn- 
ing: 

"  Besides,  'tis  known  he  could  speak  Greek 
As  naturally  as  pigs  squeak ; 
That  Latin  was  no  more  difficile, 
Than  for  a  blackbird  'tis  to  whistle." 

And,  making  his  bow  to  the  charmer  he  is  in  quest  of, 
he  tells  her: 

"  Madam  !  I  do,  as  is  my  duty, 
Honor  the  shadow  of  thy  shoe-tie." 

Curious  it  is  to  find  how  this  genius  for  exaggeration 
is  an  old  quality  in  the  Saxon  blood.  Read  Dasent's 
admirable  translation  of  the  "  Norse  Tales."  Thus  Thor 
and  his  companions  one  night  see  a  house  wide  open. 
They  go  in.  It  has  one  large  hall,  very  large,  and  a  con- 
siderable closet.  After  staying  there  all  night,  they 
found  in  the  morning  that  this  house  is  the  glove  of  a 
giant,  the  closet  being  the  place  for  the  thumb. 

For  an  exhaustless  crop,  *>f.  hyperboles,  read,  and  buy 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  275 

that  you  may  read  frequently,  Charles  Lamb's  volume 
of  "  Extracts  from  the  Elizabethan  Dramatists."  Thus, 
in  Poole's  "  David  and  Bathsheba,"  the  king  exclaims: 

"  To  joy  her  love,  I'll  build  a  kingly  bower, 
Seated  in  hearing  of  a  hundred  streams." 

The  boldest  dramatic  genius  before  Shakespeare  was 
Christopher  Marlowe,  a  youth  of  wild  life  and  of  most 
miserable  end.  In  a  drunken  brawl,  his  opponent  wrest- 
ed his  own  dagger  from  him,  and  pierced  him  through 
the  eye  into  the  brain.  Thus  writes  he  of  Hero ;  with 
a  flush  and  flow  of  youth  and  of  ocean  that  are  buoyant 
and  delightful: 

"At  Sestos  Hero  dwelt— Hero  the  fair; 
Whom  young  Apollo  courted  for  her  hair, 
And  offered  as  a  dower  his  burning  throne ! 
Some  say  for  her  the  fairest  Cupid  pined, 
And  looking  in  her  face  was  stricken  blind — 
So  lovely  fair  was  Hero,  Venus'  nun." 

What  a  tempest  of  magnificence  in  the  following  of  his : 

"  The  horse  that  guide  the  golden  eye  of  Heaven, 
And  blow  the  morning  from  their  nostrils !'" 

Mark  here,  as  we  pass,  the  curious  bent  in  our  English 
to  use  the  singular  for  the  plural.  "  Sheep  "  is  used  in- 
stead of  "  sheeps."  We  say  "  two  thousand  "  for  "  two 
thousands."  So  Marlowe  here  uses  "horse"  instead  of 
"  horses." 

John  Harrington,  the  Elder,  presents  the  following 
string  of  pearls : 

"Whence  comes  my  love  ?     O  heart,  disclose  ! 
It  was  from  cheeks  that  shamed  the  rose ; 
From  lips  that  spoil  the  rubies'  praise; 
From  eyes  that  mock  the  diamond  blaze. 
Whence  comes  my  woe  as  freely  own  ? 
Ah  me  !  'twas  from  a  hearLjaf  stone  !" 


276          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

But  be  most  scrupulously  on  your  guard  against  hy- 
perboles that  consist  in  mere  wind,  without  an  honest 
enthusiasm.  Virgil  has  merely  said : 

"The  wide  ether  resounded,  and  the  affrighted  river  rolled 
backward." 

This  Dryden  inflates  in  this  fashion : 

"  The  sky  shrunk  upward  with  unusual  dread, 
And  trembling  Tiber  dived  beneath  his  bed." 

Virgil  informs  the  world  how  Turnus  lopped  off  a  war- 
rior's head  at  one  blow.  Dryden,  by  no  means  satiated 
with  this  performance,  adds: 

*  "  The  Latin  fields  are  drunk 
With  streams  that  issued  from  the  bleeding  trunk." 

Sir  William  Davenant  attains  an  equal  height  of  bom- 
bast, thus : 

"  The  lark  now  leaves  his  wintry  nest, 

And,  climbing,  shakes  his  dewy  wings; 
He  takes  your  window  for  the  East, 

And  to  implore  your  light  he  sings. 
Awake  !  awake  !  the  Morn  will  never  rise 
Till  she  can  dress  her  beauty  at  your  eyes." 

It  is  an  instructive  fact  that  savage  tribes,  living  con- 
stantly out  of  doors  with  nature,  and  intimate  with  its 
appearances,  practice  and  demand  exact  accuracy  in  the 
descriptions  of  all  the  things  that  are  familiar  to  them ; 
in  all  the  genuine  poetry  of  such  tribes,  false  hyperbole 
never  occurs  in  delineations  of  the  outward.  Homer  has 
nearly  twenty  descriptions  of  the  effects  of  wind  on  wa- 
ter, and  not  an  exaggerated  circumstance  is  admitted 
into  one  of  them ;  while  Virgil,  living  in  more  artificial 
times,  and  far  less  conversant  with  the  sea-foam  and  the 
billow,  is  continually  making  his  waves,  when  storm- 
tossed,  strike  not  the  clouds  only,  but  the  stars. 

On  this  whole  subject,  necessarily  a  big -one,  of  the 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  277 

hyperbole,  a  caution  is  cleverly  conveyed  in  the  follow- 
ing excerpt  from  Sterne's  "  Sentimental  Journey:" 

"  When  the  barber  came,  he  absolutely  refused  to  have  any 
thing  to  do  with  my  wig — 'twas  either  above  or  below  his  art. 
I  had  nothing  to  do  but  to  take  one  ready  made,  of  his  own 
recommendation.  '  But  I  fear,  friend,'  said  I,  *  this  buckle 
won't  stand.' — '  You  may  immerse  it,'  said  he, '  into  the  ocean, 
and  it  will  stand.' — What  a  great  scale  is  every  thing  upon  in 
this  city,  thought  I.  The  utmost  stretch  of  an  English  periwig- 
maker's  ideas  could  have  gone  no  farther  than  to  have  dipped 
it  "into  a  pail  of  water.  What  a  difference  ! 

"  I  confess  I  do  hate  all  cold  conceptions,  and  am  generally 
so  struck  with  the  great  works  of  nature  that,  for  my  own  part, 
if  I  could  help  it,  I  would  never  make  a  comparison  less  than  a 
mountain  at  least.  All  that  can  be  said  against  the  French 
sublimity  is,  that  the  grandeur  is  more  in  the  word,  and  less  in 
the  thing.  No  doubt  the  ocean  fills  the  mind  with  vast  ideas, 
but  Paris  being  so  far  inland,  it  was  not  likely  I  should  run 
post  a  hundred  miles  to  try  the  experiment ;  the  Parisian  bar- 
ber meant  nothing.  The  pail  of  water  standing  beside  the  great 
deep  makes  certainly  but  a  sorry  figure  in  speech,  but  'twill  be 
said  it  has  one  advantage — 'tis  in  the  next  room,  and  the  truth 
of  the  buckle  may  be  tried  in  it  without  more  ado  in  a  single 
moment.  In  honest  truth,  and  upon  a  more  candid  revision 
of  the  matter,  the  French  expression  professes  more  than  it 
performs." 

Study  very  minutely  the  inimitable  style  of  this  inim- 
itable banter.  It  seems  to  us  that  in  his  best  pieces 
Sterne  has  never  been  surpassed,  and  can  not  be. 

Douglas  Jerrold  in  this  wise  covered  a  pedantic  fe- 
male, a  Blue,  with  hyperboles,  in  ridicule  of  pretended 
learning : 

"  She's  a  traveling  college,  and  civilizes  wherever  she  goes. 
Send  her  among  the  Hottentots,  and  in  a  week  she'd  write  'em 
into  top-boots.  She  spent  only  three  days  with  the  Esquimaux, 
wrote  a  book  on  their  manners,  and  by  the  very  force  of  her 
satire  shamed  'em  out  of  whale-oil  into  soda-water." 


278          Might  and 'Mirth  of  Literature. 

Of  a  person  noted  for  a  certain  useless  over-pity,  he 
declared  that — 

"  He  was  so  benevolent  a  man  that,  in  his  mistaken  com- 
passion, he  would  have  held  an  umbrella  over  a  duck  in  a 
shower  of  rain." 

As  all  manner  of  exaggeration  may  be  ranged  under 
hyperbole,  Hood's  letters  to  children  may  be  quoted 
here.  He  thus  writes  to  one: 

"Mv  DEAR  MAY,  —  How  do  you  like  the  sea?  Not  much 
perhaps;  it's  so  big.  But  shouldn't  you  like  a  nice  little  ocean 
that  you  could  put  into  a  pan  ? 

"  Have  the  waves  ever  run  over  you  yet,  and  turned  your 
little  two  shoes  into  pumps  full  of  water?  Have  you  been 
bathed  yet  in  the  sea,  and  were  you  afraid  ?  I  was,  the  first 
time;  and,  dear  me,  how  I  kicked  and  screamed!  or  at  least 
meant  to  scream ;  but  the  sea,  ships  and  all,  began  to  run  into 
my  mouth,  and  so  I  shut  it  up.  Did  you  ever  try,  like  a  little 
crab,  to  run  two  ways  at  once  ?  See  if  you  can  do  it,  for  it  is 
good  fun;  never  mind  tumbling  over  yourself  a  little  at  first. 
It  would  be  a  good  plan  to  hire  a  little  crab  for  an  hour  a  day, 
to  teach  baby  to  crawl,  if  he  can't  walk;  and,  if  I  was  his  mam- 
ma, I  would,  too  !  Bless  him  !  But  I  must  not  write  on  him 
any  more — he  is  so  soft,  and  I  have  nothing  but  steel  pens. 
And  now,  good-by.  The  last  fair  breeze  I  blew  dozens  of 
kisses  for  you,  but  the  wind  changed,  and  I  am  afraid  took 
them  all  to  Miss  H.,  or  somebody  that  it  shouldn't." 

To  filch  just  one  other  wit-spark  from  Hood :  he  writes 
of  a  night  in  which  a  Christian  farmer  would  hardly  have 
left  out  his  scarecrow. 

LXL  Let  us  close  this  chapter  with  one  figure  more, 
that  needs  but  very  brief  notice :  Peculiarity  of  Usage. 
Our  greatest  writers  take  such  licenses.  Thus  Shake- 
speare employs  "  like  "  for  "  please :" 

"  Sir,  there  she  stands ; 
If  aught  within  that  little-seeming  substance 
May  fitly  like  your  Grace." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  279 

And  again,  very  frequently,  "  owes  "  for  "  owns :" 

"  Will  you,  with  those  infirmities  she  owes, 
Take  her  or  leave  her  ?" 

Once  more — he  uses  "  procures  "  for  "  brings :" 
"  What  unaccustom'd  cause  procures  her  hither  ?" 

See  S.,  "  Tempest,"  act  i.,  scene  ii.,  Prospero's  4th  speech, 
line  6,  "  out "  for  "  quite."  It  needs  the  intuition  of  gen- 
ius to  know  how  far  to  go  in  this  direction.  In  a  deft 
hand,  these  beautiful  inaccuracies  signally  arouse  and  re- 
ward attention.  Several  of  our  poets  use  "  fulfill'd  of 
joy"  for  "filled  with  joy." 

We  conclude  this  chapter  with  two  truths.  One  is  of 
great  importance  in  this  subject  of  figurative  language 
Many  persons  excuse  the  dry  style  which  they  write  by 
alleging  that  a  turn  for  illustrations  comes  by  nature; 
for  their  part  they  have  no  turn  that  way.  But  Jiear  this 
in  mind,  and  do  act  upon  it :  nothing  admits  more  of 
culture  than  this  accomplishment.  Said  an  eminent 
preacher  to  us  the  other  day: 

"Within  the  last  six  years  I  see  the  greatest  change  on  my 
style  in  this  respect.  Figures  and  illustrations  now  come  to 
me  with  much  ease,  and  by  the  dozen.  This  faculty  I  have 
gained  by  effort  and  study." 

Be  encouraged — be  greatly  encouraged,  my  dear  Dryas- 
dust, if  you  are  deeply  convinced  of  the  usefulness  of 
illustrations,  and  if  you  are  eager  to  obtain  the  gift. 
Nothing  can  be  more  successfully  cultivated ;  of  that 
fact  be  very  certain.  It  has  been  far  too  little  attended 
to ;  far  too  little  acted  on. 

The  other  truth  is  this:  Hyperbole  often  arises  from 
mere  credulity ;  as  in  Sir  John  Maundeville,  the  oldest 
prose  writer  in  English,  who  wrote  his  travels  in  1356.  He 
assures  us  that  he  had  seen  at  Jerusalem,  on  the  steps  of 
the  Temple,  the  footmarks  of  the  ass  which  our  Lord  rode 
on  Palm  Sunday ;  that  the  Ethiopians  are  a  people  who 
have  only  one  foot,  but  so  big  that  they  use  it  as  a  parasol. 


280         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 
PART    NINTH. 

Litotes,  Meiosis,  or  Lessening.  —  The  Bull,  usually  called 
Irish.  —  Repetition :  Seventeen  Varieties. — Translation 
from  the  German,  by  the  A  uthor. 

LXII.  LITOTES,  Meiosis,  or  Lessening,  is  the  figure 
that  naturally  finds  a  place  soon  after  its  boisterous  or 
copious  opposite,  hyperbole.  Hereby,  while  we  seem  to 
lessen,  we  increase  the  force  of  the  expression — a  strik- 
ing proof  of  the  flexibility  of  language  when  wielded 
with  skill.  Hyperbole  means  less  than  it  says ;  litotes 
means  more.  But  very  unfortunate  the  name  ;  for  wheth- 
er the  o  in  the  middle  shall  be  long  or  short  is  always  to 
be  a  dispute,  though  scholars  are  well  aware  that  short 
it  ought  to  be.  Satan  uses  a  lessening,  when  in  a  de- 
spair and  envy  that  hate  all  things  bright,  happy,  un- 
fallen,  he  thus  bespeaks  God's  unsinning  servant,  the 
Sun: 

"Tothee  I  call, 

But  with  no  friendly  voice,  and  add  thy  name, 
O  Sun,  to  tell  thee  how  I  hate  thy  beams." 

The  apostle  Paul — sage,  hero,  man  of  ceaseless  action, 
ceaseless  thought,  and  ceaseless  love — warns  a  Roman 
official  that  he  was — 

"  A  citizen  of  no  mean  city." 
When  we  say  "  the  man  is  no  fool,"  we  are  understood 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  281 

to  admit  that  he  is  wise.  "  I  can  not  praise  such  con- 
duct," means  that  we  condemn  it.  Chaucer,  of  his  fat, 
rosy  monk,  affirms — 

"  He  was  not  pale  as  a  forpined  ghost." 

But  Chaucer's  poor  clerk  was  the  living  antithesis,  he 
and  his  horse,  of  the  monk : 

"  As  lene  was  his  horse  as  is  a  rake, 
And  he  was  not  right  fat,  I  undertake." 

Under  Lessening  much  sly  insinuation  may  be  carried 
on — it  being  well  fitted  for  purposes  of  humor.  And  as, 
when  a  person  is  not  praised  enough,  the  reader  or  hear- 
er feels  challenged  to  do  him  better  justice,  so  this  fig- 
ure often  suggests  to  us  those  stronger  epithets,  from 
the  use  of  which  the  author  or  speaker  purposely  ab- 
stains, and  we  have  in  this  way  the  gratification  of  doing 
fully  what  has  been  left  but  half  done. 

Lessening  is  continually  used  to  express  affection ;  we 
depict  an  object  as  small  in  order  to  excite  ourselves  to 
love  and  cherish  it.  Jesus  and  John  loved  to  say :  Little 
children.  The  language  of  the  nursery  abounds  in  di- 
minutives. Such  terms  are  honorable  to  human  nature, 
proving  how  deep  the  fountains  of  perfectly  disinter- 
ested affection  are  in  man's  heart.  Be  helpless  and  you 
will  be  cared  for.  In  the  following,  by  Emerson,  the 
claims  of  smallness  and  weakness  are  very  cleverly  set 
forth : 

"  The  Mountain  and  the  Squirrel 
Had  a  quarrel ; 

And  the  Mountain  called  the  Squirrel  '  Little  Prig.' 
Bun  replied : 

'  You  are  doubtless  very  big; 
But  all  sorts  of  things  and  weather 
Must  be  taken  in  together 
To  make  up  a  year 
And  a  sphere; 


282          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

And  I  think  it  no  disgrace 

To  occupy  my  place. 

If  I'm  not  so  large  as  you, 

You  are  not  so  small  as  I, 

And  not  half  so  spry. 

I'll  not  deny  you  make 

A  very  pretty  squirrel  track: 

Talents  differ;  all  is  wisely  put — 

If  I  can  not  carry  forests  on  my  back, 

Neither  can  you  crack  a  nut.' " 

Edwin  Arnold  coins  a  delicate  usage  for  our  not  yet 
half-developed  language — he  going  in  the  right  direc- 
tion, mark  it  well — Saxonward.  He  thus  addresses  the 
Almond  Blossom,  in  an  exquisite  little  poem: 

"  Blossom  of  the  almond-trees, 
April's  gift  to  April's  bees; 
Birthday  ornament  of  spring, 
Flora's  fairest  daughterling !" 

LXIII.  A  usage  of  a  very  different  sort  now  presents 
itself:  The  Bull,  usually  called  Irish;  though  Rhetoric 
blushes  a  little  to  recognize  it  as  a  legitimate  figure  of 
speech.  Exaggerated  hyperboles  are,  however,  second- 
cousins,  half  removed.  Bulls  are  the  result  partly  of 
confusion  of  ideas,  and  partly  of  confusion  of  words,  yet 
preserving  a  certain  odd  plausibility.  Coleridge  defines 
them  thus: 

"  A  bull  consists  in  a  mental  juxtaposition  of  incongruous 
ideas ;  with  the  sensation,  but  without  the  reality,  of  connection." 

Said  Jerrold's  tipsy  fellow,  after  long  fumbling  in  the 
dark  with  the  key  in  his  hand,  at  the  door  of  his  house : 

"I  see  how  it  is;  some  scoundrel  has  stolen  the  key-hole." 

John  Claudius  Beresford,  banker  in  Dublin,  was  very 
unpopular  with  the  mob  at  the  time  of  a  rebellion  in 
Ireland : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  283 

"  '  We'll  ruin  the  rascal,'  was  the  cry ;  '  we'll  destroy  every 
note  of  his  bank  we  can  lay  our  hands  on  j'  " 

and  they  actually  burned  some  twenty  thousand  pounds' 
worth  of  them. 

Milton  tries  to  impart  some  dignity  to  this  Hibernian 
way  of  speech  in  these  terms : 

"Adam  the. goodliest  man  of  men  since  born 
His  sons — the  fairest  of  his  daughters,  Eve." 

But  Wordsworth,  though  seemingly  it  was  a  bull,  in  re- 
ality expressed  a  great  verity,  that  the  foundations  of 
the  character  of  the  man  are  laid  in  infancy  even,  and  in 
earliest  boyhood ;  and  so  he  uttered  the  expression : 

\     "  The  child's  the  father  of  the  man."  ( 

We  will  be  forgiven  for  purloining  the  following  group 
of  bulls,  the  best  we  ever  found  collected ;  too  valuable 
for  our  honesty  to  stand  proof  against.  Pray  let  us  in- 
dulge in  one  good  theft : 

"Why  the  Irish,  of  all  people,  should  be  distinguished  for  bull- 
making,  or  why  there  should  exist  among  the  natives  of  Ireland 
such  an  innate  and  irresistible  propensity  to  blunder,  it  is  diffi- 
cult to  conjecture.  Mr.  and  Miss  Edge  worth,  in  their  inquiry 
into  the  etymology  of  Irish  bulls,  endeavor  to  account  for  it 
thus :  '  That  the  English  not  being  the  mother-tongue  of  the 
natives  of  Ireland,  to  them  it  is  a  foreign  language,  and,  conse- 
quently, it  is  scarcely  within  the  limits  of  probability  that  they 
should  avoid  making  blunders  both  in  speaking  and  writing.' 
However  this  may  be,  an  Irish  bull  is  a  thing  more  easily  con- 
ceived than  defined.  Perhaps,  did  we  search  for  its  precedent 
among  the  long  lists  of  bold  tropes  and  figures  which  come 
down  from  the  old  Greek  writers  and  orators,  the  nearest  ap- 
proach we  could  find  to  it  would  be  under  the  title  of  Catachre- 
sis — a  catachresis  being  the  '  boldest  of  any  trope,  necessity 
makes  it  borrow  and  employ  an  expression  or  term  contrary  to  the 
thing  it  means  to  express?  This  certainly  conveys  a  just  idea 
of  what  an  Irish  bull  is  or  should  be. 


284          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Many  of  the  following  examples  we  give  as  original,  as  they 
occurred  within  our  own  personal  knowledge  ;  the  rest  we  have 
selected  from  a  variety  of  sources,  and  have  been  careful  always 
to  distinguish  between  blunders  and  bulls — a  distinction  which 
is  often  neglected. 

"  One  of  the  richest  specimens  of  a  real  Irish  bull  which  has 
ever  fallen  under  our  notice  was  perpetrated  by  that  clever  and 
witty,  but  blundering  Irish  knight,  Sir  Richard  Steele,  when  in- 
viting a  certain  English  nobleman  to  visit  him.  l  If,  sir,'  said 
he,  *  you  ever  come  within  a  mile  of  my  house,  /  hope  you  will 
stop  there  T  Another  by  the  same  gentleman  is  well  worth  re- 
cording. Being  asked  how  he  accounted  for  his  countrymen 
making  so  many  bulls,  he  said  :  '  I  can  not  tell,  if  it  is  not  the 
effect  of  the  climate.  I  fancy,  if  an  Englishman  was  born  in 
Ireland,  he  would  make  just  as  many.' 

"This,  again,  reminds  us  of  that  well-known  instance  of  wound- 
ed Irish  pride  related  of  the  porter  of  a  Dublin  grocer,  who  was 
brought  by  his  master  before  a  magistrate  on  a  charge  of  steal- 
ing chocolate,  to  which  he  could  scarcely  plead  '  Not  guilty.' 
On  being  asked  to  whom  he  sold  it,  the  pride  of  Patrick  was 
exceedingly  wounded.  'To  whom  did  I  sell  it?'  cried  Pat. 

*  Now,  do  you  think  I  was  so  mane  as  to  take  it  to  sell  ?' 

*  Pray,  then,  sir,'  said  the  J.  P.,  '  what  did  you  do  with  it  ?' 
1  Do  wid  it  ?     Well,  then,  since  you  must  know,  I  took  it  home, 
and  me  and  my  ould  'oman  made  tay  of  it.' 

"  A  rich  bull  is  recorded  of  an  Irishman  at  cards,  who,  on  in- 
specting the  pool,  found  it  deficient :  '  Here  is  a  shilling  short,' 
said  he ;  '  who  put  it  in  ?' 

"  This  bull  was  actually  perpetrated  ;  so  also  was  the  follow- 
ing :  Two  eminent  members  of  the  Irish  bar,  Doyle  and  Yel- 
verton,  quarreled  one  day  so  violently  that  from  hard  words 
they  came  to  hard  blows.  Doyle,  the  more  powerful  man  of 
the  two  (at  the  fists,  at  least)  knocked  down  his  antagonist 
twice,  vehemently  exclaiming :  '  You  scoundrel,  I'll  make  you 
behave  yourself  like  a  gentleman.'  To  which  Yelverton,  ris- 
ing, replied  with  equal  indignation  :  « No,  sir,  never.  I  defy 
you  !  You  could  not  do  itT 

"  The  next  declaration  of  independence  we  record  occurred  to 
our  knowledge.  It  was  uttered  by  an  exasperated  rural  lover, 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  285 

y 

whose  sweetheart  had  driven  him  '  beyond  the  beyonds '  with 
her  '  courting '  and  '  carryings  on  '  with  his  rival.  '  I  will  nev- 
er spake  to  you  more  !'  he  exclaimed,  with  exceeding  vexation. 
'Keep  your  spake  to  yourself,  then,'  said  the  provoking  girl, 
coolly ;  '  I  am  sure  I  can  live  without  either  it  .or  your  com- 
pany.'— *  I  am  sure  so  can  I,  then,'  was  the  wrathful  rejoinder. 

"  Most  of  our  readers  are  familiar  with  the  story  of  the  gallant 
young  Irishman  who  declared  to  his  sweetheart  that  he  was  in 
such  a  way  about  her  he  couldn't  sleep  at  night  for  dreaming  of 
her.  A  parallel  instance  to  this  occurred  in  our  own  hearing 
when  a  poor  fellow  protested  to  *  his  girl '  in  the  hayfield  that 
his  two  eyes  hadn't  gone  together  all  night  for  thinking  about  her. 
'  Very  likely  they  did  not,'  replied  this  sweet  plague  of  his  life, 
'  for  I  see  your  nose  is  between  them.' 

"  The  following  was  perpetrated  by  a  young  Irish  gentleman, 
who  was  exceedingly  anxious  to  meet  a  certain  young  Irish 
lady  at  the  house  of  a  common  lady  friend,  who  had  expressed 
her  entire  readiness  (as  most  ladies  would,  under  similar  temp- 
tations) to  perform  the  amiable  part  of  '  daisy-picker '  to  the 
young  couple. 

" '  But,'  said  the  poor  fellow,  anxiously, '  there  is  nothing  in 
the  world  half  so  embarrassing,  you  know,  as  to  meet  a  girl  by 
appointment.  I  am  sure,  under  the  circumstances,  I  wouldn't 
be  myself- — neither  would  she  /  Suppose,  my  dear  madam,  you 
could  manage  it  so  as  to  let  us  meet  at  your  house  some  even- 
ing without  either  of  us  being  aware  that  the  other  was  present? 

"  Still  another  pair  of  lovers  claims  our  attention.  The  young 
lady,  less  flustered  than  her  admirer,  addressed  him  in  these 
terms :  '  I  like  you  exceedingly,  but  I  can  not  quit  my  home. 
I  am  a  widow's  only  darling,  and  no  husband  could  equal  my 
parent  in  kindness.' — 'She  may  be  kind,'  replied  her  wooer, 
enthusiastically ;  '  but  be  my  wife — we  will  live  together,  and 
see  if  I  don't  beat  your  mother!' 

"  The  next  sight  that  we  get  into  the  cares  and  troubles  that 
married  life  is  heir  to,  is  through  the  remonstrance  of  a  Hiber- 
nian paterfamilias,  who  declares  to  his  wife  that  he  really 
wishes  the  children  could  be  kept  in  the  nursery  while  he  is  at 
home ;  '  although,'  -he  considerately  adds,  * 2 'would not  object  to 
their  noise  if  they  would  only  keep  quiet' 


286         Might  and  Mirtk  of  Literature. 

"  We  shall  now  proceed  to  Dublin,  where  doubtless  still  re- 
sides that  old  beggar  woman  who,  while  soliciting  charity,  de- 
clared she  was  the  mother  of  six  small  children  and  a  sick  hus- 
band. 

"  We  wonder  was  this  lady  any  relation  to  the  poor  Irishman 
who  offered  his  only  old  saucepan  for  sale.  His  children,  gath- 
ering around  him,  inquired  why  he  did  so.  '  Ah,  my  honeys,' 
said  he, '  sure  I  wouldn't  be  after  partin'  with  it  if  it  wasn't  to 
get  some  money  to  buy  somethin'  to  put  in  it.' 

"  The  next  bull  that  occurs  to  me  was  uttered  by  a  poor  wom- 
an who,  in  all  the  pride  and  glory  of  her  maternal  heart,  was 
declaring  to  a  kind-hearted  listener  that  since  the  world  was  a 
world  there  never  was  such  a  clever  boy  as  her  Bill;  he  had 
just  made  two  chairs  and  a  fiddle  out  of  his  own  head,  and 
had  plenty  of  wood  left  for  another. 

"  A  similar  mechanical  genius  had  that  Irish  carpenter  in 
America,  who,  in  sending  in  his  little  account  to  a  farmer  for 
whom  he  had  been  working,  informed  him  that  it  was  '  for 
hanging  two  barn  doors  and  himself >  seven  hours,  one  dollar 
and  a  half.' 

"  In  direct  contradistinction  to  this  acknowledged  attempt  at 
self-destruction,  we  have  the  story  of  a  certain  physician,  who, 
conducting  a.  post-mortem  examination  in  a  case  of  infanticide, 
reported  that  he  was  unable  to  discover  whether  the  child  was 
alive  at  the  time  of  its  death  or  not. 

"  It  must  have  been  a  twin  sister  of  this  gentleman,  who,  hav- 
ing been  nearly  drowned  by  falling  into  a  well,  committed  a 
very  rich  bull,  when  she  piously  and  thankfully  declared  that 
*  only  for  Providence  and  another  woman  she  never  would  have 
got  out.' 

"Horace  Walpole  records  in  his  'Walpoliana'  an  Irish  bull, 
which  he  pronounces  to  be  the  best  he  ever  met  with.  '  I  hate 
that  woman,'  said  a  gentleman,  looking  at  a  person  who  had 
been  his  nurse  —  'I  hate  her,  for  when  I  was  a  child  she 
changed  me  at  nurse.'  This  was  indeed  a  perplexing  asser- 
tion ;  but  we  have  a  similar  instance  recorded  in  the  autobiog- 
raphy of  an  Irishman,  who  gravely  informs  us  that  he  'ran 
away  early  in  life  from  his  father  on  discovering  he  was  only 
his  uncle.' 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  287 

"Again  a  poor  Irish  lad,  complaining  of  the  harsh  behavior  of 
his  father,  declares  he  just  treats  him  as  if  he  were  his  son  by 
another  father  and  mother. 

"  The  next  bull  we  record  is  redolent  of  the  soil,  and  proves 
that  in  Ireland  at  least  the  determination  to  overcome  impossi- 
bilities is  not  yet  extinct.  An  Irishman  having  challenged  a 
gentleman  to  fight  a  duel,  who  somehow  forgot  to  attend  the 
appointment,  met  accidentally  that  same  day  the  offending  par- 
ty, and  thus  addressed  him  :  '  Well,  sir,  I  met  you  this  morning, 
but  you  did  not  come  ;  however,  I  am  determined  to  meet  you 
to-morrow  morning  whether  you  come,  or  not!'  We  wonder 
was  the  gentleman  who  displayed  such  a  reluctance  to  be  pres- 
ent the  same  who  declared  he  would  not  fight  a  duel  because 
he  was  unwilling  to  leave  his  old  mother  an  orphan. 

"  An  apprentice  sailor-boy  fell  from  the  *  round-top '  to  the 
deck,  stunned,  but  little  hurt.  The  captain  exclaimed  in  sur- 
prise, '  Why,  where  did  you  come  from  ?' — '  From  the  north  of 
Ireland,  yer  honor,'  was  the  prompt  reply,  as  the  poor  fellow 
gathered  himself  up. 

"  An  Irish  paper  announces  the  death  of  a  poor  deaf  man 
called  Gaff.  He  had  been  run  over  by  a  locomotive,  and,  adds 
the  paper,  *  he  received  a  similar  injury  this  time  last  year.' 

"  Another  excellent  bull  of  the  same  kind  was  perpetrated  by 
a  coroner  in  the  county  of  Limerick.  Being  asked  how  he 
could  account  for  the  fearful  mortality  the  last  winter,  he  re- 
plied :  '  I  don't  know ;  there  are  a  great  many  people  dying 
this  year  who  never  died  before.' 

"  To  this  we  add  the  story  of  an  Irishman  who  nearly  died,  ac- 
cording to  his  own  account,  through  the  treatment  of  his  physi- 
cian, who,  he  declares,  drenched  him  so  with  drugs  during  his 
illness  that  he  was  sick  for  a  longtime  after  he  got  well.' 

"  In  practical  bulls  the  Irish  are  even  more  famous  than  in 
those  merely  logical ;  the  richest  one  we  ever  heard  was  about 
a  poor  Irish  peasant  who  was  floundering  through  a  bog  on  a 
small,  ragged  pony.  In  its  efforts  to  push  on,  the  animal  got 
one  of  its  feet  entangled  in  the  stirrup  ;  '  Arrah,  my  boy !'  ex- 
claimed the  rider,  *  if  you  are  getting  up,  it's  time  for  me  to  get 
down.' 

"  A  good  one  is  related  also  of  a  poor  Irish  servant-maid  who 


288  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

was  left-handed.  Placing  the  knives  and  forks  upon  the  din- 
ner-table in  the  same  awkward  fashion,  her  master  observed 
that  she  had  placed  them  all  left-handed.  'Ah,  true  indeed, 
sir/  said  she,  '  and  so  I  have.  Would  you  be  pleased  to  help 
me  to  turn  the  table  ?' " 

LXIV.  Repetition  next  urges  its  claims  to  attention : 
a  figure  admitting  of  remarkably  felicitous  use,  as  we  see 
in  the  Bible,  and  in  these  dear  choral  repetitions  of  Old 
Homer,  such  a  comfort  to  the  beginner  in  Greek.  There 
are  many  varieties ;  its  origin  lying  deep  in  human  nat- 
ure, which  leads  us  to  utter  and  utter  again  a  controlling 
passion  or  a  beloved  name.  As  the  crooning  over  of  ex- 
actly the  same  words  is  the  simplest  mode  of  repeating, 
we  find  this  a  very  favorite  practice  in  ballads,  and  in  all 
the  literary  productions  of  early  ages.  Matt,  v.,  3-1 1,  22  ; 
vi.,  19, 20.  Gal.  i.,  8, 9.  Luke  xi.,  42-44 ;  xii.,  5  ;  xiii.,  1-5. 
Isa.  Ixv.,  13,  14.  Ezek.  xxxii.,  17-32.  I  Cor.  xiii.,  4,  7,  8, 
ii ;  xii. ,8-1 1.  2  Cor.  xi.,  22.  I  Cor.  iii.,  21-23  ;  i.,  20;  xv., 
42,53,54.  Phil,  iv.,  8, 2.  2  Pet.  i.,  5-7.  Rev.  ii.,  7,  11,  17, 
29;  vii.,  5-8;  viii.,  7-12;  xviii.,22,  23;  xxii.,  ii,  17.  Isa. ii., 
1 1-17 ;  v.,  20.  Carefully  consult  these  examples,  and  dis- 
cover from  Scripture  a  hundred  more.  This  is  one  of 
the  greatest  of  figures  ;  you  should  give  it  plenty  of  time. 
Cull  from  S.  a  hundred  ;  from  P.  L.  a  hundred.  The  rhe- 
tors have  laboriously  enumerated  many  varieties.  We 
have  not  grudged  our  toil;  to  expend  it  has  been  the 
summer  life  of  a  bee  among  flowers. 

LXV.  Ploce  is  the  repetition  of  the  same  word  in  a 
different  sense,  but  implying  more  than  in  the  first  state- 
ment ;  of  which  Lord  Chatham,  that  soul  of  eloquence, 
gives  a  felicitous  example  : 

"  Oliver  Cromwell,  who  astonished  mankind  by  his  intelli- 
gence, did  not  derive  it  from  spies  in  the  cabinet  of  every 
prince  in  Europe ;  he  drew  it  from  the  cabinet  of  his  own  sa- 
gacious mind.  He  observed  facts,  and  traced  them  forward  to 
their  consequences." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  289 

LXVI.  Gemination  occurs  when  the  same  emphatic 
word  is  repeated  immediately ;  as — 

"  The  Cross  !  the  Cross  !" 

LXVII.  Anaphora,  Epanaphora,  is  the  repeating  of  a 
word  at  the  beginning  of  successive  clauses,  as  in  an  ex- 
quisite passage  in  S.,  "  Merchant  of  Venice,"  act  v.,  scene 
i.,  lines  1-22;  or  as  St.  Paul: 

"  Where  is  the  wise  ?  Where  is  the  scribe  ?  Where  is  the 
disputer  of  this  world  ?" 

Dr.  Masson,  in  the  close  of  a  noble  sermon,  begins  thir- 
teen sentences  with  "  Come."  Psa.  xxix.,  3,  4.  Or  accept 
of  a  model  sentence  from  the  glowing  Irish  orator,  Curran : 

"  The  heart  of  an  Irishman  is  by  nature  bold,  and  he  con- 
fides ;  it  is  tender,  and  he  loves  ;  it  is  generous,  and  he  gives  ; 
it  is  social,  and  he  is  hospitable." 

LXVIII.  Epistrophe ;  Antistrophe ;  Conversion  or 
Epiphora.  Here  are  three  Greek  names  for  one  fig- 
ure ;  what  a  proof  of  the  unwearying  effort  devoted  to 
this  theme  in  the  olden  time !  This  is  the  repetition 
of  a  word,  not  at  the  beginning,  but  at  the  end  of  suc- 
cessive clauses.  In  this  form,  and  in  many  other  forms, 
our  Demosthenes  abounds  and  excels.  Let  Dr.  Griffin, 
President  of  Williams  College,  lay  an  epistrophe  on  your 
table : 

"Awake,  and  generously  expand  your  desires  to  encircle 
this  benevolent  and  holy  kingdom  of  Christ.  God,  who  has 
set  you  an  example  of  exclusive  regard  to  this  object,  demands 
it  of  you.  Christ,  who  purchased  the  Church  with  his  own 
blood,  demands  it  of  you.  The  holy  angels,  who  incessantly 
minister  to  the  Church,  demand  it  of  you.  The  illustrious 
army  of  patriarchs,  prophets,  apostles,  and  martyrs,  by  their 
services  and  sufferings  for  the  Church,  demand  it  of  you." 

To  our  mind  and  ear  there  is  some  peculiar  charm  and 
force  in  this  style  of  repetition,  as  when  a  great  bell 


290          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

swings  at  midnight  or  at  morrt  to  announce  a  fire  or  a 
prince's  birth,  and  we  lie  listening  for  the  return,  after  a 
stated  interval,  of  the  mighty  chime. 

LXIX.  Symploce  is  the  repetition  of  one  word  at  the  be- 
ginning and  of  another  word  at  the  end  of  two  succes- 
sive clauses.  You  will  understand  what  is  meant  by  an 
example : 

"Spring  clothes  with  leaves  the  trees;  Spring  leads  back 
the  birds  of  song  to  the  trees." 

LXX.  Anadiplosis  is  the  use  of  the  same  word  at  the 
end  of  one  clause  and  at  the  beginning  of  another,  as  : 

"He  retained  his  virtues  amid  all  his  misfortunes;  misfor- 
tunes which  no  prudence  could  foresee  or  prevent." 

P.  L.,  vii.,  25,  26  ;  Isa.  Ixv.,  18. 

LXXI.  Epadiplosis,  or  Epanadiplosis,  the  use  of  the 
same  word  both  at  the  beginning  and  end  of  a  sentence, 
as  if  we  were  to  venture  this  line : 

Morn  glads  the  East ;  the  buds  are  wet  with  morn. 

LXXII.  Complection  we  encounterwhen  several  clauses 
or  members  of  a  sentence  both  begin  with  the  same  word 
and  end  with  the  same,  as  in  Cicero : 

"Who  proposed  this  law?  Rullus.  Who  prevented  the 
greater  part  of  the  people  from  giving  their  votes  ?  Rullus. 
Who  presided  over  the  assemblies  ?  Rullus." 

LXXIII.  Epanalepsis  is  the  repetition  that  occurs 
when  a  clause  or  parenthesis  intervenes,  as  in  an  ex- 
ample afforded  in  Professor  Day's  book  on  Rhetoric : 

"  The  persecutions  undergone  by  the  Apostles  furnished 
both  a  trial  to  their  faith  and  a  confirmation  to  ours ;  a  trial  to 
them,"  etc. 

Or  study  this  from  Charles  de  la  Rue's  great  discourse, 
"  The  Dying  Sinner."  It  is  with  men  grown  gray  in  sin 
that  he  expostulates : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  291 

"  You  would  be  immortal,  that  you  might  render  your  libertin- 
ism immortal.  And  can  you  expect  a  happy  immortality,  you 
who  would  have  placed  your  happiness  in  the  immortality  of 
your  sin." 

LXXIV.  Epanodos,  or  Regression,  is  the  repetition  of 
the  same  word  or  words  in  an  inverted  order,  as  thus : 

"Woe  to  them  who  call  evil,  good  ;  and  good,  evil." 

LXXV.  Polyptolon  is  the  repetition  of  the  same  word 
in  different  cases  or  numbers  or  persons,  as  thus : 

"Anguish  tries  the  soul  many  a  time  of  chief  and  king;  and 
brighter  often  are  the  homes  of  shepherds  than  of  kings." 

Or  Henry  Kingsley's  encouraging  sentence : 

"When  a  man  has  learned  how  to  learn,  he  can  learn  any 
thing." 

LXXVI.  Epizeuxis,  or  Traduction,  is  the  repetition  of 
a  word  for  the  sake  of  emphasis,  as  thus : 

."You  call  him  a  man,  who,  if  he  had  been  a  man,  would  not 

so  cruelly  have  sought  to  slay  a  man." 

LXXVII.  Paregmenon  is  the  use,  close  together,  of 
several  words  of  similar  origin,  as  by  Cicero  : 

"He  who  disapproves  the  good,  approves  the  wicked." 

Let  the  student  linger  on  this  figure  in  its  varieties ;  to 
do  so  will  bring  into  closest  contact  with  your  mind 
many  of  the  most  rhetorical  passages  in  language — not 
the  falsest,  but  the  truest  passages. 

LXXVIII.  Summation  comes  next,  noble  examples  of 
which  occur  in  Scripture.  Take  that  sublimely  affecting 
one  in  the  first  chapter  of  Job.  The  recurring  words — 

"  And  I  only  am  escaped  alone  to  tell  thee " — 

have  a  far  deeper  effect  than  any  variation  of  expression 
could  have  had  :  returning  on  the  ear  and  heart  like  death- 


292          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

peals  knelled  forth  at  regular  intervals  of  time  from  a  ca- 
thedral tower,  at  mirk  midnight,  over  some  great  disas- 
ter, that  has  paled  the  cheek  of  thousands,  and  has  made 
a  mighty  nation  a  widow,  faint  at  soul.  Job  i.,  13-19. 
If  the  repetition  of  these  words  of  doom  tell  not,  with 
a  strange  force  on  your  soul,  your  case  is  hopeless ;  your 
mind  is  proof  against  grandeur  and  gloom.  The  fact, 
too,  that  the  Bible  figures  are  so  little  met  in  some  ser- 
mons of  the  day  is  a  most  disgraceful  fact.  Who  ever 
heard  a  passage  in  a  sermon  fashioned  on  that  grand 
original  in  Job?  The  modern  pulpit  may  make  three 
great  reforms :  First,  a  chapter  of  the  Bible  to  begin 
worship  with ;  one  in  the  forenoon,  one  in  the  afternoon, 
with  explanations  which  will  be  very  short.  Secondly, 
the  most  eager  attention  given  that  the  Bible  be  read 
grandly.  Thirdly,  Christ's  mode  of  oratory  imitated,  in 
the  use  of  parables  and  of  illustrations  from  homely  ob- 
jects. Even  Henry  Ward  Beecher  himself,  while  excel- 
ling every  body  in  homely  illustration — has  he  ever,  once 
in  his  life,  used  a  parable?  In  the  name  of  wonder,  why 
not  ?  And  why  this  neglect  of  Jesus  and  his  eloquence, 
O  all  ye  modern  preachers  ?  And  why  the  Bible  so  often 
left  unexplained,  your  hearers  pining  so  for  brief,  syllabic 
explanations  ?  And  why  this  neglect  of  a  sublime  read- 
ing of  the  Bible,  full  of  grand  intonations,  full  of  impas- 
sioned action  ?  Is  it  that  ye  lie  under  the  delusion  that 
a  sermon  from  man  can  possibly  surpass  a  revelation 
from  Jehovah?  The  Bible  is  little  read  at  home — a 
shame  if  not  much  read  from  the  pulpit. 

This  figure,  repetition,  reached  its  dread  apotheosis  in  a 
place  we  name  with  awe — in  Gethsemane  ;  in  the  hour 
when  Hell  gathered  its  clouds  around  Him,  and  the  Man 
of  Sorrows  went  aside  three  times  to  pray,  in  His  myste- 
rious agony  repeating  the  same  words.  Lingers,  then, 
still,  the  despicable  silliness  with  any  one  that  figures 
are  hollow?  artificial?  shallow?  false?  O  Gethsemane, 
rebuke  us,  and  make  our  thinking  more  manly !  Sub- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  293 

limely  beyond  any  stroke  of  art  have  figures  led  us. 
Amos  i.,  3-15  ;  ii.,  1-6. 

LXXIX.  Choral  Chant,  in  poetry,  how  delightful  its 
effect !  Far  beyond  art ;  it  is  very  nature  itself,  as  in 
Homer ;  as  much  so  as  breeze  on  Ben  Lomond,  or  gale 
on  the  wildest  Atlantic.  It  brings  forward  a  feeling 
in  which  all  are  invited  to  join;  the  sentiment  coming 
back  on  us  welcome  as  an  old  friend ;  the  impetus  gath- 
ering impetus  at  each  return  of  the  oscillation.  The 
bard  does  not  laboriously,  artificially  strain  after  a  new 
mode  of  diction  each  time ;  his  not  doing  so  is  in  keep- 
ing with  our  idea  of  that  simplicity  which  should  mark 
the  outgushing  of  a  heart  which  a  great  emotion  fills  like 
a  sea,  to  the  exclusion  of  all  thought  of  the  smaller  rules 
and  dandyisms  of  writing.  Let  us  to  the  ballads  of  the 
old  time.  Of  any  nation  of  the  florid  South,  such  as 
Spain ;  or  of  the  stern  North,  such  as  Sweden  or  Scot- 
land ;  with  their  noble  rudeness,  their  simplicity,  rapid 
and  careless  of  adornments.  A  flash  of  lightning  is 
little  studious  of  ornament ;  just  as  little  is  a  genuine 
old  ballad.  In  the  "  Heir  of  Linne,"  when  the  halter 
is  placed  before  him,  as  if  by  his  dead  father's  hand,  it 
goes  on  thus : 

"  Never  a  word  spake  the  heir  of  Linne, 
Never  a  word  he  spake  but  three." 

Or  hasten  to  read — a  priceless  escape  from  the  smooth 
commonplaces  of  the  day — that  masterpiece,  "Sir  Pat- 
rick Spens :" 

"  They  hadna  sail'd  a  league,  a  league, 

A  league  but  barely  three, 

When  the  lift  grew  dark,  and  the  wind  blew  loud, 
And  gurly  grew  the  sea." 

What  a  depth  of  woe  in  the  choral  chant, "  Woe  is  me, 
Alhama,"  of  the  old  Mooro-Spanish  ballad,  at  the  close 
of  each  verse  :  it  had  so  strong  a  spell  that  the  Moors  of 
Grenada  were  forbidden  to  sing  it  on  pain  of  death. 


Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Alhama  was  a  town  and  fortress  of  the  Moors,  in  a  ro- 
mantic situation  between  craggy  mountains  ;  it  was  called 
the  key  of  Grenada.  After  a  gallant  defense,  it  was  sacked 
by  the  Spaniards  ;  and  the  Moors  saw  in  its  fall  the  death 
of  their  magnificent  monarchy.  We  quote  from  Lock- 
hart's  translation ;  be  sure  to  read  his  Spanish  ballads : 

"  The  Moorish  king  rides  up  and  down 
Through  Grenada's  royal  town ; 
From  Elvira's  gates  to  those 
Of  Bivarambla  on  he  goes  : 

Woe  is  me,  Alhama !" 

Scotland  and  Spain,  Sweden  and  Denmark,  are  the 
great  ballad  countries  of  Europe.  The  Danish,  which 
has  of  late  years  come  most  deservedly  to  be  reckoned 
one  of  the  chief  literatures  of  Europe,  possesses  above 
1300  ballads,  composed  for  the  most  part  between  A.D. 
1 200  and  1500,  the  authors  unknown.  Of  the  Danish 
writers  recently  dead,  the  three  greatest  immortals  are 
Ewald,  Baggesen,  and  Oehlenschlager ;  while  Grundtvig, 
Ingemann,  Heiberg,  Winther,  and  Paludan  -  Miiller  are 
their  still  later  great  authors.  From  Ewald,  we  quote 
one  stanza  from  his  "  King  Christian,"  the  national  song 
of  the  Danes.  Mark  its  repetitions,  at  measured  inter- 
vals, sounding,  as  one  has  said,  "  like  blow  after  regular 
blow  upon  the  anvil ;"  an  anvil  not  without  grand  music 
in  its  tone : 

"  King  Christian  stood  beside  the  mast 

In  smoke  and  flame. 
His  liegemen  through  the  battle-blast 
Sent  volley  after  volley  fast, 
Till  sunk  each  hostile  prow  and  mast 

In  smoke  and  flame. 
'Flee,  flee,'  they  cry,  ' while  yet  we  may; 
Who  dare  with  Christian  wage  to-day 
War's  game  ?" 

We  have  for  many  years  admired  "  The  Indian  Death- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  295 

song  "  of  Philip  Freneau,  a  leading  poet  of  our  Revolu- 
tionary War.  This  song  was,  some  forty  years  ago,  very 
popular  in  England  and  Scotland.  Its  choral  chant  is 
woven  indissolubly  into  our  memory.  In  Chambers's 
"  Encyclopedia  of  English  Literature  "  it  is  ascribed  to 
Mrs.  Hunter,  wife  of  John  Hunter,  the  great  surgeon  : 

"  The  sun  sets  at  night,  and  the  stars  shun  the  day, 
But  glory  remains  when  their  lights  fade  away  ; 
Begin,  ye  tormentors,  your  threats  are  in  vain, 
For  the  son  of  Alknomack  will  never  complain. 

"  I  go  to  the  land  where  my  father  has  gone, 
His  spirit  exults  in  the  fame  of  his  son ; 
Death  comes  like  a  friend  to  relieve  me  from  pain ; 
And  thy  son,  O  Alknomack,  has  scorned  to  complain." 

From  the  Rev.  Ralph  Hoyt  we  select  two  remarkable 
varieties  of  choral  repetition,  the  first  from  his  poem 

"New:" 

"  Indulgent  Heaven,  O  grant  but  this, 

O  grant  but  this  ; 

The  boon  shall  be  enough  of  bliss — 
A  home  with  true  affection's  kiss, 
To  mend  whate'er  may  be  amiss; 

O  grant  but  this." 

"The  Eden  won,  insatiate  still, 

Insatiate  still, 

A  wider,  fairer  range  he  will ; 
Some  mountain  higher  than  his  hill, 
Some  prospect  fancy's  map  to  fill: 
A  wider,  fairer  range  he  will — 

Insatiate  still." 

There  is  here  a  certain  quaint  effect,  altogether  inde- 
scribable, produced  by  repetition,  as  by  the  return  on  us 
in  Gothic  architecture  of  some  queer  twist  of  the  ma- 
sonry. The  same  writer's  poem,  "  The  Old  Man  on  the 
Mossy  Stone,"  is  in  the  same  way  very  delightful;  in- 


296          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter atiire. 

deed,  the  peculiar  rhythm  and  repetition  communicate 
to  us  an  enjoyment  perfectly  exquisite.  Why  does  not 
Mr.  Hoyt  cultivate  poesy  far  more  ? 

"  By  the  wayside  on  a  mossy  stone 

Sat  a  hoary  pilgrim,  sadly  musing; 
Oft  I  marked  him  sitting  there  alone, 
All  the  landscape  like  a  page  perusing; 

Poor,  unknown, 
By  the  wayside  on  a  mossy  stone." 

William  Julius  Mickle,  translator  of  Camoens's  "  Lu- 
siad,"  the  national  epic  of  Portugal,  has  a  home-song 
very  popular  in  Scotland ;  where  a  faithful  wife  hears  of 
the  return  of  her  husband  from  sea.  The  choral  chant 
is  good  enough  to  have  been  written  by  Burns.  The 
four  last  lines  are  the  refrain : 

"  Sae  wise  his  words,  sae  smooth  his  voice, 

His  breath's  like  caller  air ; 
His  very  foot  has  music  in't 

As  he  comes  up  the  stair. 
And  will  I  see  his  face  again  ? 

And  will  I  hear  him  speak  ? 
I'm  downright  dizzy  wi'  the  thought, 

In  truth  I'm  like  to  greet. 
For  there's  nae  luck  aboot  the  house, 

There's  nae  luck  at  a' ; 
There's  little  pleasure  in  the  house 

When  our  gudeman's  awa'." 

Beware,  however,  lest  repetition  become  on  your  lips 
a  talking  without  saying  any  thing.  The  Irelands,  fa- 
ther and  son,  are  notorious  from  a  presumptuous  attempt 
to  pass  off  "  Vortigern,"  a  play  by  the  younger  Ireland, 
as  a  genuine  drama  of  Shakespeare,  discovered  by  them 
in  old  MSS.  At  Sheridan's  desire,  it  was  acted  in  Drury 
Lane  Theatre.  Vortigern,  in  the  tragedy,  called  out  to 
the  soldiers,  as  they  were  leading  off  Rowena : 

"  Give  her  up  !     Give  her  up  !     Give  her  up  !" 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  297 

The  crowded  audience,  tired  and  disgusted  previously 
with  the  insult  to  Shakespeare's  memory,  took  the  hint ; 
the  house  resounded  from  pit  to  gallery  with  "  Give  her 
up  !  Give  her  up  !  Give  her  up  !"  Meaning  by  "  her  "  the 
tragedy.  The  curtain  fell  on  the  piece  forever. 

LXXX.  Echo — let  it  be  enumerated  here — a  won- 
drously  beautiful  form  of  repetition.  From  Adelaide 
Proctor,  chosen  poetess  of  the  plaintive,  daughter  of 
Barry  Cornwall,  is  this  taken: 

"  Still  the  wood  is  dim  and  lonely; 

Still  the  flashing  fountains  play; 
But  the  Past  and  all  its  beauty, 
Whither  has  it  fled  away  ? 
Hark  !  the  mournful  echoes  say- 
Fled  away !" 

S.,  "  Hamlet,"  act  i.,  scene  i.,  Horatio  to  the  Ghost. 

LXXXI.  Redoubled  Negation— a  still  farther  form  of 
repetition — is  used  with  good  effect  in  animated  conver- 
sation, and  in  oratory,  which,  in  many  of  its  best  efforts, 
throws  itself  into  the  very  forms  of  animated  conversa- 
tion, as  in  the  expression :  "  Never  !  no,  never !"  We  did 
not  study  Demosthenes  long  till  we  met  instances  of 
this,  as  in  the  First  against  Philip : 

"  If  we  sit  at  home  listening  to  the  mutual  invectives  and  ac- 
cusations of  our  declaimers,  there  will  not  happen — no,  not  so 
much  as  one  of  the  deliverances  we  need." 

Again,  in  the  Second  against  Philip : 

"Universal  dominion  is  his  aim — not  any  thing  toward  peace; 
not  tranquillity;  not  any  thing  just." 

Or,  again,  in  the  oration  on  the  Crown,  he  cries : 
"  But  these  things  are  not  so;  they  are  not  so." 

And  farther  on  in  the  same  oration,  in  a  passage  that 
presents  you  with  a  specimen  of  those  large  axioms,  mor- 
al and  political,  with  which  his  oratory  greatly  abounds : 


298          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

brief  statements  of  general  principles  true  in  all  ages, 
which  embalm  his  speeches  with  a  noble  dignity : 

"No  one,  men  of  Athens,  lavishes  his  money  on  a  traitor,  seek- 
ing the  good  of  the  traitor;  nor  ever  is  the  traitor  admitted  into 
the  future  confidence  of  the  briber,  when  once  the  briber  is  in  se- 
cure possession  of  the  advantages  for  which  he  paid  the  money. 
For  if  a  traitor  were  still  valued,  no  one  could  be  happier  than 
a  traitor.  But  it  is  not  so.  No,  indeed  ;  it  is  impossible. 
When  the  lover  of  rule  stands  established  in  the  firm  mastery 
of  affairs,  he  is  master,  too,  of  those  who  betrayed  things  into 
his  hands;  and  knowing  their  baseness,  then  assuredly — then, 
too,  he  hates  them ;  and  utterly  distrusts  them ;  and  heaps  mire 
on  them." 

A  remarkable  instance  of  redoubled  negatives  you  find 
in  the  hymn  where  the  soul  protests  its  resolution  never 
to  be  false  to  the  Saviour : 

"Whom  I'll  never,  no  never,  no  never  forsake." 

P.  L.,  i.,  335,  336,  a  choice  example.  Thomas  Hooker 
gives  you  a  form  of  words  under  this  head  that  would 
suit  well  as  one  of  the  familiarities  of  the  pulpit : 

"  When  He  calls  for  fasting  and  weeping  and  mourning,  who 
regards  it?  Abraham,  my  brethren,  did  not  thus:  these  were 
none  of  his  steps;  no,  no;  he  went  a  hundred  miles  off  this 
course." 

Which  is  an  example  of  numeration,  too ;  so  frequent 
are  figures  in  plain,  earnest  speakers — such  men  as  are 
the  most  Saxon  in  their  style.  S.,  "  Lear,"  act  v.,  scene 
iii.,  line  19  from  close.  A  very  homely  style  has  crowds 
of  homely  references  as  its  very  basis;  like  a  marl  soil 
constituted  by  the  debris  of  innumerable  sea-shells,  relics 
of  beauty. 

LXXXII.  Redoubled  Affirmation,  being  one  other 
variety  of  repetition,  as  much  claims  notice  as  the  one 
that  has  just  been  catalogued.  In  the  French  of  Alex- 
ander Dumas  the  younger,  1871,  we  have  both: 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  299 

"  Is  it  decidedly  necessary,  yes  or  no,  that  there  be  a  God,  a 
morality,  a  society,  a  family,  a  universal  human  brotherhood? 
Ought  man  to  work,  to  know  how  to  progress  ?  Ought  women 
to  be  respected,  united,  associated  with  us  ?  Is  truth  the  end  ? 
Is  justice  the  means  ?  Is  the  good  absolute  ?  Yes,  yes — a 
thousand  times  yes !  States,  societies,  governments,  families, 
individuals,  can  they,  to  be  useful,  durable,  fruitful,  do  away 
with  these  elements  ?  No,  no — a  thousand  times  no  !" 

We  have  now  enumerated  seventeen  kinds  of  repeti- 
tion. No  such  minute  specification  has  been  made  in  any 
modern  literature.  It  is  quite  possible  that  the  number 
of  varieties  might  be  doubled.  We  challenge  the  reader 
to  make  the  attempt.  But  we  hasten  to  wind  up  this 
subject  with  a  specimen  from  our  studies  in  those  four 
admirable  modern  languages,  to  which  we  have  given 
many  a  year's  attention : 


[Translated  by  the  Author  from  the  German  of  Kosegartenl\ 


"From  gloom  to  light !     And  when  dark  night  enshrouds 

Thee  and  creation  in  its  pall  of  fear, 
Believe  !  believe  !     After  the  midnight  clouds, 
The  glad  mild  glories  of  the  dawn  appear. 

ii. 
"  Through  storm  to  peace  !     And  when,  on  earth  and  sky, 

Fiercely  the  thunders  and  the  tempests  beat, 
Believe  !  believe  !     After  the  storm's  wild  cry, 
The  gentle  calm  comes  on,  so  slow  and  sweet. 

in. 

"  Through  snows  to  spring  !     And  when  the  East's  keen  blast 

The  kindly  juices  of  the  earth  congeals, 
Believe  !  believe  !     When  winter's  rage  is  past, 
The  vernal  breeze  around  soft  whispering  steals. 


30O          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


IV. 


"  Through  strife  to  triumph  !     And  when,  deaths  among, 

The  arrow,  spear,  and  sword  thy  life  menace, 
Believe  !  believe  !     After  the  fight's  fierce  throng, 
The  shout  of  victory  comes,  and  love's  embrace. 


v. 


"  Through  toil  to  rest !     And  when  upon  thee  lie 

The  heat  and  burden  of  the  sultry  day, 
Believe  !  believe  !     The  cool  and  evening  sky 
Will  steal  thy  soul  to  sacred  rest  away. 


VI. 


"  Through  the  dark  cross  to  heaven  !     And  when  life's  ills 

With  giant  strength,  unpitying,  press  thee  down, 
Believe  !  believe  !     Though  grief  thy  bosom  fills, 
Soon  wreaths  of  deathless  joy  thy  head  shall  crown. 


VII. 


"Through  woe  to  bliss  !     Hath  morning  weeping  found  thee? 

Doth  midnight  water  all  thy  bed  with  tears? 
Believe  !  believe  !     A  Father's  hand  is  round  thee ; 
Thy  Shepherd  King's  sweet  smile  rebukes  thy  fears. 


VIII. 


"  Through  death  to  life  !     Through  strong  temptation's  hours, 

Through  stinging  griefs,  press  on  with  dauntless  tread ; 
Love's  feast  of  joy  awaits  in  yonder  bowers; 

Thy  seat  is  placed  !     Thine  evening  meal  is  spread !" 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  301 


CHAPTER   XV. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 
PART    TENTH. 

Synonym. — Ascription  of  Value. — Doubt. — Pretended  Dis- 
covery at  the  Moment. — Aporia,  or  Pretended  Impossi- 
bility.— Pretended  Ignorance. — Indistinctness. — Affirma- 
tion.— Affirmation  and  Negation. — Apostrophe. — Denun- 
ciation.— Solemn  Appeal. — Oath,  or  Adjuration. — Com- 
mand.— Exclamation  of  Sorroiv. — Spiritualization. 

LXXXIII.  SYNONYM  demands  a  place  next  after  the 
great  figure  Repetition.  It  is  not  the  same  as  it,  because 
a  different  word  is  used ;  but  approaches  it,  as  some 
shade  of  meaning  discriminates  the  one  from  the  other. 
It  needs  to  be  employed  very  cautiously,  else  you  be- 
come guilty  of  a  heaping  up  of  empty  words.  Yet  at 
times  it  has  good  reasons  in  its  behalf;  it  may  cause  the 
mind  to  look  a  second  time  at  an  object,  or  it  may  utter 
forth  the  mind  twice  over ;  as  when  Homer  says : 

"Late  the  prodigy;  late  coming." 

Nahum  ii.,  10,  12.  The  noble  Liturgy  of  the  Episcopal 
Church  abounds  in  this,  with  a  very  peculiar  end  in  view : 
the  idea  is  expressed  in  a  word  of  Saxon  derivation,  and 
then  in  a  word  of  Latin  derivation ;  the  object  being  to 
make  the  matter  plain  to  the  educated  and  to  the  un- 
educated, as  when  it  is  said  : 

"  God  forbids  and  prohibits  this." 

Zeph.i.,  15;  ii.,9-     Matt,  ii.,  13. 

Synonyms  may  conduce  to  ludicrous  effects ;  as  when, 


302          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

in  Shakespeare's  "  Midsummer-Night's  Dream,"  Quince, 
in  giving  out  their  parts  to  his  comrades,  says : 

"  Masters,  here  are  your  parts  :  and  I  am  to  entreat  you,  re- 
quest you,  and  desire  you  to  con  them." 

In  Cicero  this  is  met  with : 

"I  will  not  bear  it;  I  will  not  suffer  it;  I  will  not  permit  it." 

By  no  means  to  be  admired;  arising  from  that  unhappy 
vanity  of  his,  that  loved  to  strut.  So  true  it  is  that  every 
great  virtue  is  a  help  to  genuine  eloquence,  and  every 
moral  weakness  a  hinderance.  S.,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet," 
act  iii.,  scene  v.,  Juliet's  3d  speech,  line  i.  This  instance 
proves,  however,  that  in  some  states  of  strong  feeling  the 
natural,  unadulterated  tendency  is  to  pile  up  synonyms. 
Act  iv.,  scene  v.,  lines  44,  50,  52. 

Well  worthy,  Professor  Coppee's  illustration : 

"Although  our  language  is,  in  its  structure  and  the  great  ma- 
jority of  its  words,  Anglo-Saxon,  still  the  large  number  of 
French  and  Latin  words  which  have  been  brought  into  it  have 
formed  terms  synonymous  with  the  original  Saxon ;  but  when 
they  had  become  naturalized,  as  we  had  no  use  for  two  words 
exactly  synonymous,  wisdom  suggested  that  they  should  exhibit 
shades  of  difference  in  meaning  which  did  not  originally  belong 
to  them  ;  so  that  few  or  any  words  are  justly  defined  by  their 
synonyms.  Besides,  as  a  similar  idea  among  any  two  people 
would  have  its  differences  drawn  from  their  own  peculiarities 
of  claim  and  race,  and  manner  of  life  and  government,  the 
synonyms,  when  brought  into  the  language,  would  often  express 
great  differences  at  once,  and  without  any  effort  on  our  part  to 
cause  them  to  do  so.  As  a  remarkable  instance  of  it,  let  us 
see  how  very  wrong  it  would  be  to  define  our  English  word 
freedom  by  its  synonym  liberty,  which  comes  to  us  from  the 
Latin ;  and  yet  how  many  confound  the  two.  Indeed,  these 
are  historic  words,  and  give  us  an  insight  into  the  times  of  their 
birth,  wonderfully  illustrative  of  the  people  and  countries  from 
which  they  came.  Freedom  is  the  personal,  individual  inde- 
pendence and  right  of  every  man — his  freedom  ;  /.  ^.,  free  prov- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  303 

ince  or  jurisdiction  from  his  birth.  Coming  as  it  does  from 
the  Teutonic  element  in  our  language,  it  tells  us  of  the  free  and 
independent  Germans,  who  by  their  own  valor  overturned  the 
great  fabric  of  the  Roman  Empire.  They  were  men  of  the 
forest  and  mountain,  inhabiting  no  cities — there  were  none  in 
Germany  till  after  the  eighth  century — but  only  roving  where 
were  the  lordliest  spoils.  On  the  other  hand,  liberty  tells  us 
of  the  Roman  cities.  We  cling  like  good  citizens  to  our  liber- 
ty, vouchsafed  to  us  by  the  Constitution  of  the  country  as  Amer- 
icans ;  yet  we  much  more  desire  to  keep  well  guarded  that 
freedom  of  opinion,  of  speech,  of  action,  which,  is  our  indefeasi- 
ble right  as  men." 

LXXXIV.  Ascription  of  Value  is  a  form  of  utterance 
which  we  believe  has  never  caught  the  notice  of  any 
rhetor,  yet  it  has  a  fine  effect.  In  the  "  Chronicles  of  the 
Schonberg-Cotta  Family,"  Luther  is  introduced  saying 
that  he  did  not  value  the  Pope's  opinion — 

"  No,  not  the  stalk  of  a  pear." 

In  ways  very  life-like  and  home-like  may  this  figure  be 
used.  In  William  Congreve's  "  Love  for  Love,"  Ben, 
the  earliest  full-drawn  English  sailor  who  was  ever  repre- 
sented on  the  British  stage,  thus  addresses  a  saucy  Miss : 

"  As  for  your  love  or  your  liking,  I  don't  value  it  of  a  rope's 
end." 

Mark  here  the  fine  idiomatic  use  of  "  of."  S.,  "  Hamlet," 
act  i.,  scene  iv.,  Hamlet's  /th  speech,  line  2.  If  you  care- 
fully use  these  references  of  ours  to  S.,  to  P.  L.,  and  to 
Scripture,  they  will  give  you  an  intimacy  with  these 
sources  highly  valuable. 

LXXXV.  Doubt,  Dubitation,  is  a  real  or  seeming 
doubt,  which  figure  the  history  of  eloquence  shows  us 
to  have  been  used  on  some  of  the  grandest  occasions, 
with  powerful  dramatic  effect.  As  when  Thomas  Went- 
worth,  afterward  Earl  of  Strafford,  of  unhappy  memory, 
in  those  days  when  he  stood  with  such  brilliancy  on  the 


304          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

popular  side,  1627-8,  thus  declaimed  against  the  minis- 
ters of  Charles  I. : 

"They  have  taken  from  us — what  shall  I  say?  Indeed, 
what  have  they  left  us?" 

And  again : 

"  By  one  and  the  same  thing  hath  the  king  and  the  people 
been  hurt,  and  by  the  same  must  they  be  cured ;  to  vindicate 
— what  ?  New  things  ?  No !" 

So  our  Demosthenes,  in  the  oration  on  the  Crown,  says 
to  ^EschineSj  his  antagonist : 

"O  thou — by  what  name  can  one  properly  describe  thee?" 

I  Cor.  xi.,  22  ;  Lam.  ii.,  13  ;  Psa.  cxxxix.,  7.  Let  Hol- 
yoake,  in  his  valuable  little  book,  "  Hints  for  Public 
Speaking,"  treat  the  figure  for  us : 

"  Those  who  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  Thorn,  the  weaver- 
poet,  converse,  know  the  Spartan  felicity  of  expression  which 
he  commanded.  His  conversation  was  often  a  study  in  rhetoric. 
He  told  a  story  in  the  best  vein  of  Scotch  shrewdness.  He  was 
one  day  recounting  an  anecdote  of  Inverary,  or  Old  Aberdeen, 
to  a  coterie  of  listeners.  The  point  of  the  story  rested  on  a  par- 
ticular word  spoken  in  fitting  place.  When  he  came  to  it,  he 
hesitated  as  though  at  a  loss  for  the  term.  'What  is  it  you 
say  under  these  circumstances  ?'  he  asked  ;  '  not  this  nor  that/ 
he  remarked  as  he  went  over  three  or  four  terms  by  way  of 
trial,  as  each  was  endeavoring  to  assist  him.  'Ah,'  he  added, 

1  we  say ,  for  want  of  a  better  word.'    This  of  course  was  the 

word  wanted  ;  the  happiest  phrase  the  language  afforded.  He 
gained  several  things  by  this.  He  enlivened  a  regular  narra- 
tive by  an  exciting  digression,  which  increased  the  force  and 
point  of  the  climax  ;  he  created  a  difficulty  for  his  auditors  ; 
for  who,  when  suddenly  asked,  would  be  able  to  find  a  term 
which  seemed  denied  to  his  happy  resource  ?  Or  who,  finding 
it,  would  have  the  courage  to  present  it  to  such  a  fastidious 
epithetist  ?  Also,  he  won  a  triumph  by  suggesting  what  ap- 
peared out  of  their  power,  and  he  excited  an  indefinite  wonder 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  305 

at  his  own  skill  in  bringing  a  story  to  so  felicitous  an  end  by 
the  employment  of  a  makeshift  phrase.  It  was  a  case  analo- 
gous to  that  given  by  Dickens  in  one  of  his  early  papers,  where 
the  President,  at  a  loss  for  a  word,  asks,  'What  is  that  you  give 
a  man  who  is  deprived  of  a  salary  which  he  has  received  all  his 
life,  for  doing  nothing ;  or  perhaps  worse,  for  obstructing  public 
improvement?'  '  Compensation  ?'  suggests  the  Vice,  removing 
the  doubt.  Only,  Thorn  was  his  own  Vice-President." 

Holyoake  brings  out  very  well  the  happy  offices  which 
this  figure,  this  throwing  in  of  a  doubt,  can  render ;  but 
he  believes  far  too  much  in  tricks  and  frauds  on  the  part 
of  a  speaker. 

Chrysostom,  whose  name  means  "  The  Golden-Mouth- 
ed," supplies  the  subjoined,  on  Abraham's  offering  of 
Isaac : 

"  What  language  can  describe  his  fortitude  ?  He  brought 
forward  his  son,  bound  him,  placed  him  on  the  wood,  seized  the 
sacrificial  knife,  was  just  on  the  point  of  inflicting  the  stroke. 
In  what  manner  to  express  myself  properly  I  know  not;  he 
only  would  know  that  did  these  things.  For  no  language  can 
describe  how  it  happened  that  his  hand  did  not  become  tor- 
pid, that  the  strength  of  his  nerves  did  not  relax,  that  the  af- 
fecting sight  of  his  boy  did  not  overpower  him." 

A  beautiful  example  of  Asyndeton,  too. 

Let  S.  give  us  our  next  example  of  a  doubt  intrud- 
ing itself,  dismissed,  returning : 

"Thou  speakst  it  falsely,  as  I  love  mine  honor, 
And  makst  conjectural  fears  to  come  to  me, 
Which  I  would  fain  shut  out.     If  it  should  prove 
That  thou  art  so  inhuman  ; — 'twill  not  prove  so  ! 
And  yet  I  know  not. — Thou  didst  hate  her  deadly, — 
And — she  is  dead." 

What  more  difficult  yet  befitting  office  can  this  divine 
gift  of  language  be  put  to  than  to  play  out  such  play  as 
this,  of  jarring  tides  of  contending  emotions  ;  now  banish- 
ing a  doubt,  now  tortured  by  it. 

U 


306          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

LXXXVI.  Pretended  Discovery  at  the  moment  is 
closely  connected  with  doubt.  An  amusing  sample  in 
Burns's  lines  on  "  Captain  Grose :" 

"  It's  tauld  he  was  a  sodger  bred, 
And  ane  wad  rather  fa'n  than  fled; 
But  now  he's  quat  the  spurtle  blade, 

And  dog-skin  wallet, 
Ar.d  ta'en  the — Antiquarian  trade 

I  think  they  call  it." 
Or  in  Cicero : 

"What  name  suits  him  ?  I  know  not  any.  Yes.  Parricide 
of  his  country !" 

Evidently  this  form  is  well  fitted  for  impassioned  ora- 
tory. The  occupants  of  our  pulpits  ought  to  be  familiar 
with  all  these  tools  and  resources  of  the  orator.  But 
this  volume,  which  we  present  to  them,  is  really  the  only 
book  in  the  world  in  which  the  public  speaker  can  find 
his  war-gear  described. 

LXXXVII.  Aporia,  or  Pretended  Impossibility,  is  a 
doubting  of  a  special  kind  ;  a  not  knowing  where  to  begin 
or  what  to  say,  on  account  of  the  confusing  wealth  of 
matter.  An  excellent  instance  in  Paul's  Letter  to  the 
Hebrews,  when  he  breaks  forth,  toward  the  close  of  that 
grand  enumeration  of  Heb.  xi.,  into  this  cry : 

"And  what  shall  I  more  say?  for  the  time  would  fail  me 
to  tell  of  Gideon,  and  of  Barak,  and  of  Samson,  and  of  Jephthah; 
of  David  also,  and  Samuel,  and  of  the  prophets." 

Our  present  translation  of  Paul's  letters  comes  lament- 
ably short  of  the  force,  expressive  eloquence,  depth,  of 
the  great  apostle's  Greek.  Would  we  had  a  translation 
worthy  of  the  divine  original. 

LXXXVIII.  Ignorance  forms  another  form  that  can 
be  discriminated  from  the  last  three.  William  Miller  il- 
lustrates it  in  his  successful  poem  on  a  well-known  Scot- 
tish subject,  "  Willie  Winkie ;  the  Genius  of  Slumber." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  307 

There  is  a  provoking  baby  that  doggedly  refuses  to  go 
to  sleep : 

"  Skirlin  like  a  kenna-what." 

LXXXIX.  Indistinctness  we  are  naturally  led  to  think 
of  by  Doubt  and  Aporia.  A  figure  it  is,  very  potent  in 
a  master's  hand.  Sublime  objects  are  often  shadowy  and 
undefined  ;  a  hazy  mist  hovers  around  them  ;  a  vastness 
is  suggested  greater  far  than  the  eye  can  measure,  and 
he  who  paints  such  objects  with  the  pen  should  leave 
around  his  delineations  a  similar  haze  of  indistinctness. 
Accordingly  Virgil  represents  ^Eneas  and  the  Sybil,  in 
their  celebrated  visit  to  the  lower  regions,  as  entering 
Hell  by  a  dim  light : 

"As  when  one  goes  into  a  wood  at  the  midnight  hour,  when 
the  moon  is  clouded  in  heaven." 

Job  iv.,  12-16.  S.,  "  Coriolanus,"  act  iv.,  scene  i.,  line  31. 
From  Rogers's  "  Italy,"  a  poem  of  much  descriptive  pow- 
er, take  the  following  very  admirable  instance : 

"  Nor  then  forget  that  chamber  of  the  dead, 
Where  the  gigantic  shapes  of  Night  and  Day. 
Turned  into  stone,  rest  everlastingly, 
Yet  still  are  breathing,  and  shed  round  at  noon 
A  twofold  influence  only  to  be  felt. 
A  light,  a  darkness,  mingling  each  with  each, 
Both  and  yet  neither.     There,  from  age  to  age, 
Two  Ghosts  are  sitting  on  their  sepulchres  ! 
That  is  the  Duke,  Lorenzo.     Mark  him  well ; 
He  meditates,  his  head  upon  his  hand. 
What  from  beneath  his  helm-like  bonnet  scowls  ? 
Is  it  a  face,  or  but  an  eyeless  skull  ? 
'Tis  lost  in  shade ;  yet  like  the  basilisk 
It  fascinates,  and  is  intolerable." 

Betake  we  ourselves,once  again,to  the  "  Faerie  Queene," 
which  is,  says  the  poet  Campbell  in  his  "  English  Poets," 
refinement  itself: 


308         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"We  shall  nowhere  find  more  airy  and  expansive  images 
of  visionary  things,  a  sweeter  tone  of  sentiment,  or  a  finer  flush 
in  the  color  of  language,  than  in  this  Rubens  of  English 
poetry." 

Mark  how  Spenser  throws  a  haze  of  uncertainty  around 
the  object  which  he  would  have  to  impress  us : 

"  And  for  more  horror  and  more  cruelty, 
Under  that  cursed  Idol's  altar-stone 
A  hidden  monster  did  in  darkness  lie, 
Whose  dreadful  shape  was  never  seen  of  none 
That  lives  on  earth." 

The  "Paradise  Lost"  offers  many  instances;  let  one 
suffice : 

"  By  them  stood 

Orcus  and  Hades,  and  the  dreaded  Name 
Of  Demogorgon." 

Mr.  Proctor  thus  remarks  on  this  passage,  usually 
passed  over  unnoticed  by  the  common  run  of  readers 
and  critics : 

"  With  respect  to  the  '  Name  of  Demogorgon,'  which  stands 
by  Orcus  and  Hades,  how  can  such  a  phrase  be  justified  by 
the  rules  of  reason?  Nevertheless,  it  is  as  magnificent  as 
words  can  make  it.  It  is  clothed  in  a  dark  and  spectral 
grandeur,  and  presses  upon  our  apprehensions  like  a  mighty 
dream." 

Critique  magnificent  as  its  theme. 

A  stroke  of  sublime  genius  it  was  when  Timanthes 
(B.C.  400),  representing  Agamemnon  presiding  over  the 
sacrifice  of  his  beloved  daughter,  Iphigenia,  whom  the 
gods  of  Hellas  had  commanded  him  to  offer  up,  pictured 
Agamemnon  with  his  face  veiled ;  thus  grandly  hinting 
that  agony  of  a  father's  heart  which  no  pencil  can  por- 
tray. Yet  sublimer  far  rose  the  Italian,  Tintoretto,  who, 
picturing  the  crucifixion  of  Christ,  around  which  throng 
the  Infinities — Infinite  Holiness,  Infinite  Justice,  Infinite 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  309 

Love,  Infinite  Hope — shrouded  the  face  of  the  Divine 
Martyr  in  the  shadow  of  the  great  eclipse. 

On  this  special  figure,  and  on  our  whole  subject  of  fig- 
ures, let  us  once  again  fortify  our  general  position  by 
the  argument  of  Dr.  Bela  Bates  Edwards  on  the  I39th 
Psalm : 

"We  discover  in  it  a  reason  why  a  portion  of  Scripture  is 
communicated  to  us  in  the  form  of  poetry.  It  is  not  simply 
because  it  is  more  eloquent  than  prose,  or  because  figurative 
language  makes  a  deeper  and  more  vivid  impression.  It  is  be- 
cause it  gives  a  truer  and  more  adequate  impression ;  because 
it  approaches  nearer  to  the  nature  of  the  thing  to  be  compre- 
hended ;  because  it  is  less  liable  to  present  false  or  perverted 
conceptions.  The  divine  attributes  are  in  their  nature  illimita- 
ble, and  at  the  best  can  be  but  partially  and  feebly  apprehend- 
ed, yet  those  delineations  in  the  Scriptures  are  the  most  im- 
pressive, the  most  adequate,  which  are  the  farthest  removed 
from  the  language  of  common  life,  where  the  illustrations  are 
the  least  definite,  the  least  measurable,  the  least  apprehensible 
by  the  mere  understanding ;  those  objects  in  the  material  uni- 
verse being  selected  which  can  be  represented  only  as  it  were 
in  outline,  necessarily  conveying  the  idea  of  an  indefinite  vast- 
ness,  of  an  immeasurable  depth,  of  unimagined  velocity.  There 
is  a  sense,  therefore,  in  which  the  best  method  of  representation 
is  the  most  indefinite,  the  least  cognizable  by  the  mere  intellect. 
We  do  not  discover  truth,  we  do  not  feel  its  power,  by  the  aid 
of  one  faculty  alone.  For  this  purpose  we  have  the  principle 
of  faith,  the  power  of  emotion,  the  faculty  of  imagination.  There 
are  delineations,  which,  because  of  their  indefiniteness,  do  act- 
ually impart  the  most  ennobling  and  satisfying  conceptions  of 
God.  On  such  subjects  that  which  is  in  the  highest  degree 
poetical  is  nearest  the  truth." 

XC.  AfBrmation,  when  thrown  into  certain  forms,  be- 
comes a  figure.  As  in  these  lines  of  Giles  Fletcher: 

"  Yes,  aid  implore 

Of  Him,  the  more  He  gives,  that  hath  the  more  ; 
Whose  storehouse  is  the  heavens — too  little  for  His  store." 


3io          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Or  in  Keats : 

"  Where  are  the  songs  of  spring  ?     Aye,  where  are  they  ?" 

What  a  delicate  touch  of  charm  is  in  that  "  aye !" 
Which  of  our  readers  can  grapple  with  and  analyze  the 
force  of  that  small  word  ? 

XCI.  Affirmation  and  Negation  form,  when  united,  a 
figure  very  potent ;  too  redolent  of  the  heart  in  its  most 
changeful  moods  for  a  written  discourse.  See  it  in  "The 
Maniac,"  by  Matthew  Gregory  Lewis.  First  she  affirms 
her  sanity,  then  her  insanity : 

"  O  hark  !     What  mean  those  yells  and  cries  ? 

His  chain  some  furious  madman  breaks. 
He  comes !     I  see  his  glaring  eyes ! 

Now,  now  my  dungeon  grate  he  shakes ! 
Help  !     Help  !— He's  gone  !     O  fearful  woe, 

Such  screams  to  hear,  such  sights  to  see ! 
My  brain  !     My  brain  !     I  know,  I  know 

I  am  not  mad — but  soon  shall  be. 

"  Yes,  soon  ;  for,  lo  you,  while  I  speak 

Mark  how  yon  demon's  eyeballs  glare  ! 
He  sees  me!    Now  with  dreadful  shriek 

He  whirls  a  serpent  high  in  air. 
Horror  !     The  reptile  strikes  his  tooth 

Deep  in  my  heart,  so  crushed  and  sad ; 
Aye,  laugh,  ye  fiends,  I  feel  the  truth  ; 

Your  task  is  done  !     I'm  mad  !     I'm  mad.'' 

A  passage  like  this,  a  billowy  whirl  and  wild  conglom- 
erate of  figures,  would  nobly  suit  the  pulpit.  O  give 
us  the  men  who  could  abandon  themselves  to  such  tor- 
nado passions,  yet  could  control  them  at  their  stormiest, 
riding  on  and  guiding  the  whirlwind. 

XCII.  The  important  form  Apostrophe  comes  next : 
a  turning  asjkle  from  the  regular  course  of  the  subject 
to  address  some  person  or  thing.  Very  frequent  in 
Holy  Writ:  Job  xxxviii.,  II  ;  Gen.  xlix.,  18;  Neh.  vi., 9; 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  3 1 1 

Matt,  xxiii.,  37.  Apostrophes  there  are  of  the  imagina- 
tion,, which  may  be  of  considerable  length,  and  of  the 
passions,  which  generally  should  be  shorter ;  each  thing 
addressed  being  spoken  to,  suitably  to  its  nature.  Blair, 
in  his  very  correct,  finished  sermons,  exclaims : 

"  Adversity !  how  blunt  are  all  the  arrows  of  thy  quiver  in 
comparison  with  those  of  Guilt!" 

John  Barbour,  the  father  of  Scottish  poesy,  died  about 
I395>  a  contemporary  of  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  wrote  "  The 
Bruce,"  an  historical  poem  ;  he  gives  us  these  words  to 
Freedom,  lines  frequently  quoted : 

"Ah,  Fredome,  thou'rt  a  nobill  thing ! 
Fredome  maiks  man  to  haif  liking. 
Fredome  all  solace  to  man  giffis ; 
He  levys  at  ese  that  frely  levys  !" 

At  first,  you  perceive,  the  Scotch  was  the  same  as  the 
English,  but  in  Blind  Harry's  time  a  difference  is  plain 
—by  the  year  1460. 

Turn  with  us  to  Ossian's  poems,  put  forth  by  James 
Macpherson,  who  claimed  them  to  be  the  productions  of 
a  blind  chief  and  bard  who  flourished  in  the  Highlands 
of  Scotland  in  the  fifth  century  after  Christ ;  but  no  sat- 
isfactory proof  of  this  has  been  given.  The  committee 
of  the  Highland  Society  reported  that,  having  made  a 
regular  inquiry  into  the  authenticity  of  these  poems, 
"  they  have  never  been  able  to  obtain  any  one  poem  the 
same  in  title  and  tenor  with  the  poems  published."  Dr. 
Johnson,  who  detested  all  things  Scottish,  afHrmed  that 
they  might  have  been  written  "  by  many  men,  many 
women,  and  many  children."  Napoleon  treasured  them 
as  his  favorite  volume,  and  in  his  stirring  addresses  to 
his  soldiers  formed  his  style  in  great  measure  upon  them. 
Let  us  listen  to  the  blind  bard's  address  to  the  Sun — far 
too  polished  for  the  date  and  locality,  but  glorious,  for  all 
that,  and  far  surpassing  aught  else  of  Macpherson  : 


312          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  O  thou  that  rollest  above,  round  as  the  shield  of  my  fathers ! 
Whence  are  thy  beams,  O  Sun,  thy  everlasting  light  ?  Thou  com- 
est  forth  in  thy  awful  beauty,  and  the  stars  hide  themselves  in 
the  sky ;  the  moon,  cold  and  pale,  sinks  in  the  western  wave. 
But  thou  thyself  movest  alone ;  who  can  be  the  companion  of 
thy  course?  The  oaks  of  the  mountains  fall;  the  mountains 
themselves  decay  with  years ;  the  ocean  shrinks  and  grows 
again ;  the  moon  herself  is  lost  in  heaven ;  but  thou  art  for- 
ever the  same,  rejoicing  in  the  brightness  of  thy  course.  When 
the  world  is  dark  with  tempests  ;  when  thunder  rolls  and  light- 
nings fly,  thou  lookest  in  thy  beauty  from  the  clouds  and  laugh- 
est  at  the  storm.  But  to  Ossian  thou  lookest  in  vain  ;  for  he 
beholds  thy  beams  no  more,  whether  thy  yellow  hair  floats  on 
the  eastern  clouds,  or  thou  tremblest  at  the  gates  of  the  west. 
But  thou  art  perhaps,  like  me,  for  a  season,  and  thy  years  will 
have  an  end.  Thou  shalt  sleep  in  thy  clouds,  careless  of  the 
voice  of  the  morning." 

In  this  matter  we  vote  with  Napoleon,  and  against  Dr. 
Johnson.  Ossian  is  a  fresh  variety  in  literature,  holding 
a  high  place  entirely  its  own ;  and  if  ever  there  were  an 
emblem  on  earth,  this  is  one:  a  Highland  mountain,  with 
its  mists  around  it — a  most  striking  emblem  of  Ossian. 
In  some  indescribable  way  these  poems  breathe  thy  spirit, 
O  sublime  land  !  whence  they  emanated. 

One  of  the  most  successful  modern  tragedians  of  En- 
gland is  Sheridan  Knowles.  In  his  "  William  Tell,"  thus 
declaims  the  Swiss  hero : 

"Ye  know  the  jutting  cliff  round  which  a  track 
Up  hither  winds,  whose  brow  is  but  the  base 
To  such  another  one,  with  scanty  room 
For  two  abreast  to  pass?     O'ertaken  there 
By  the  mountain  blast,  I've  laid  me  flat  along; 
And  while  gust  followed  gust  more  furiously, 
As  if  to  sweep  me  o'er  the  horrid  brink, 
And  I  have  thought  of  other  lands  where  storms 
Are  summer  flaws  to  those  of  mine,  and  I 
Have  wished  me  there,  the  thought  that  mine  was  free 
Has  check'd  that  wish,  and  I  have  raised  my  head 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  3 1 3 

And  cried  in  glad  tones  to  that  furious  wind, 
'  Blow  on  !     This  is  the  land  of  liberty !'  " 

Very  nobly  does  Mrs.  Stoddard,  of  Connecticut,  apos- 
trophize the  last  great  Enemy  in  her  poem,  "  The  Soul's 
Defiance :" 

"  I  said  to  Death's  uplifted  dart, 

'  Aim  sure  !     Make  no  delay  !' 
Thou  wilt  not  find  a  fearful  heart — 

A  weak,  reluctant  prey. 
For  still  the  spirit,  firm  and  free, 
Unruffled  by  this  last  dismay, 
Wrapt  in  its  own  eternity, 
Shall  pass  away." 

The  Scottish  youth,  Michael  Bruce,  who  was  cut  off 
in  early  life,  gave  promise  of  decided  genius.  He  is  like- 
ly to  be  long  remembered,  through  the  beauty  and  finish 
of  one  poem,  his  ode  to  the  "  Cuckoo."  Alluding  to 
this  bird's  following  of  spring  round  the  world,  he  breaks 
into  this  apostrophe : 

"  Sweet  bird  ! ,   Thy  bower  is  ever  green, 

Thy  sky  is  ever  clear. 
Thou  hast  no  sorrow  in  thy  song, 
No  winter  in  thy  year." 

James  Hogg,  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  is  another  Scot- 
tish miracle.  Like  Caedmon  the  Saxon,  his  first  occupa- 
tion was  that  of  a  cowherd.  His  whole  schooling  lasted 
but  six  months,  when  he  got  as  far  as  the  Bible-class. 
At  fourteen  he  found  himself,  after  much  hard  work  and 
half  starvation,  in  possession  of  five  shillings,  wherewith 
he,  like  an  embryo  poet,  bought  a  fiddle  to  play  to  him- 
self in  the  loft  of  the  cow-house.  At  eighteen  he  began 
writing  poetry ;  as  he  said  himself,  "  it  was  bitter  bad." 
With  dogged  confidence  in  himself  he  kept  floundering 
on,  publishing  two  volumes,  and  a  weekly  periodical, 
which  nobody  would  read ;  till  at  last  he  schooled  him- 
self into  shape  and  grammar,  in  about  his  fortieth  year ; 


314          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

and  out  came  his  "  Queene's  Wake,"  full  of  that  grandeur 
of  fancy,  lifting  him  into  realms  beyond  the  earth,  which 
is  Hogg's  most  remarkable  peculiarity.  Several  of  his 
songs,  also,  are  of  the  highest  excellence ;  and  this  un- 
taught rough  being,  with  his  coarse  shepherd's  plaid 
about  his  brawny  shoulders,  has  taken  his  place  among 
the  poets  who  use  the  Doric  of  our  literature,  the  classic 
dialect  of  the  Scottish  Lowlands,  next  after  Burns,  and  on 
the  same  level  with  the  admirable  Allan  Ramsay.  Let 
us  listen,  then,  to  his  apostrophe  to  the  "  Skylark :" 

"  Bird  of  the  wilderness, 
Blythesome  and  cumberless, 
Sweet  is  thy  matin  o'er  moorland  and  lea ! 

Emblem  of  happiness, 

Blest  be  thy  dwelling-place ! 
O  to  abide  in  the  desert  with  thee! 

"  Wild  is  thy  lay  and  loud, 
Far  in  the  downy  cloud; 
Love  gives  it  energy ;  love  gave  it  birth. 
•  Where  on  thy  dewy  wing, 

Where  art  thou  journeying? 
Thy  lay  is  in  heaven,  thy  love  is  on  earth." 

From  Dr.  Darwin,  the  elder,  author  of  the  "  Botanic 
Garden,"  and  the  "  Loves  of  the  Plants,"  poems  glitter- 
ing and  polished  in  their  versification,  but  too  artificial, 
with  personification  carried  to  a  mania,  we  draw  the  fol- 
lowing, which  remind  us  of  the  close  of  Campbell's 
"  Pleasures  of  Hope :" 

"  Roll  on,  ye  stars  !     Exult  in  youthful  prime  ; 
Mark  with  bright  curves  the  printless  steps  of  Time. 
Near  and  more  near  your  beamy  cars  approach, 
And  lessening  orbs  on  lessening  orbs  encroach  ; 
Flowers  of  the  sky  !     Ye  too  to  age  must  yield, 
Frail  as  your  silken  sisters  of  the  field  ! 
Star  afte*  star  from  heaven's  high  arch  shall  rush, 
Suns  sink  on  suns,  and  systems  systems  crush, 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  3 1 5 

Till  o'er  the  wreck,  emerging  from  the  storm, 
Immortal  nature  lifts  her  changeful  form  ; 
Mounts  from  her  funeral  pyre  on  wings  of  flame, 
And  soars  and  shines,  another  and  the  same." 

XCIII.  Denunciation  is  so  suitable,  nay,  so  indispensa- 
ble to  the  pulpit,  whose  mission  it  is  to  brand  our  sins, 
that  we  can  not  but  assign  to  it  a  separate  place.  Sub- 
lime instances  in  the  Bible  thunder  upon  us:  Isa.  v.,  18, 
20-22;  x.,  i  ;  xiv.,  12-15.  Not  with  silken  touch  should 
the  man  of  God  in  our  day  deal  with  the  great  sins  of 
the  time.  Never  an  age  needed  more  Boanerges,  Elijah, 
and  the  Baptist.  Be  it  borne  in  mind,  too,  that  the  more 
merciful  a  heart  is,  the  more  will  it  detest  the  causes  of 
those  ills  that  devastate  and  endanger  society;  accord- 
ingly our  Saviour  was  the  first  to  fulminate  of  eternal 
woe.  No  weaker  error  than  to  imagine  the  Old  Testa- 
ment more  denunciatory  than  the  New.  God's  holiness 
may  be  defined  —  His  infinite  hatred  of  the  things  that 
infinitely  hate  us;  never  did  He  give  license  to  the  pul- 
pits of  the  nineteenth  century  to  be  tame.  Matt,  iii.,  7, 
10;  viii.,  32;  x.,  15  ;  xxi.,  19;  xxiii.,  13—30. 

But  to  turn  to  Shakespeare.  Lear  thus  denounces 
his  daughter,  Goneril : 

"  Blasts  and  fogs  upon  thee  ! 
The  untented  woundings  of  a  father's  curse 
Pierce  every  sense  about  thee  !" 

This  unsurpassed  tragedy  affords  great  examples  of  great 
and  unsurpassed  denunciations. 

XCIV.  Solemn  appeal  to  the  Deity  is  a  figure  to  be. 
used  only  on  worthy  occasions.  Toward  the  close  of  the 
Second  against  Philip,  Demosthenes  cries : 

"  I,  let  the  gods  be  my  witness,  will  speak  the  truth  with 
boldness  to  you,  and  will  conceal  nothing." 

The  peroration  of  Lord  Brougham's  speech  in  behalf 
of  Queen  Caroline  is  a  fine  instance : 


316          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Such,  my  Lords,  is  the  case  now  before  you.  Such  is  the 
evidence  in  support  of  this  measure — evidence  inadequate  to 
prove  a  debt — impotent  to  deprive  of  a  civil  right — ridiculous 
to  convict  of  the  lowest  offense — scandalous  if  brought  forward 
to  support  a  charge  of  the  highest  nature  which  the  Law  knows 
— monstrous  to  ruin  the  honor,  to  blast  the  name  of  an  English 
Queen.  What  shall  I  say,  then,  if  this  is  the  proof  by  which  an 
act  of  legislation,  a  Parliamentary  sentence,  an  ex  post  facto 
law,  is  sought  to  be  passed  against  this  defenseless  woman  ? 
My  Lords,  I  pray  you  to  pause.  I  do  earnestly  beseech  you 
to  take  heed.  You  are  standing  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice — 
then  beware.  It  will  go  forth  your  judgment,  if  sentence  shall 
go  against  the  Queen.  But  it  will  be  the  only  judgment  you 
ever  pronounced  which,  instead  of  reaching  its  object,  will  re- 
turn and  bound  back  upon  those  who  give  it.  Save  the  country, 
my  Lords,  from  the  horrors  of  this  catastrophe.  You  have  said, 
my  Lords — you  have  willed — the  Church  and  the  King  have 
willed,  that  the  Queen  should  be  deprived  of  its  solemn  service. 
She  has,  instead  of  that  solemnity,  the  heartfelt  prayers  of  the 
people.  She  wants  no  prayers  of  mine.  But  I  do  here  pour 
forth  my  humble  supplications  at  the  throne  of  mercy  that  that 
mercy  may  be  poured  down  upon  the  people  in  a  larger  meas- 
ure than  the  merits  of  their  rulers  may  deserve,  and  that  your 
hearts  may  be  turned  to  justice." 

From  Cicero  against  Verres,  be  this  heard : 

"  You,  ye  Alban  mounds  and  groves,  you  I  implore  and  call 
to  witness ;  and  you,  ye  ruined  altars  of  Alba,  equal  in  sanc- 
tity to  the  Roman  shrines,  destroyed  and  buried  by  the  mad 
sacrilege  of  this  man  by  whom  the  sacred  trees  have  been 
cut  clown  and  laid  prostrate.  And  thou,  O  holy  Jove,  thou 
hast  at  length  from  thy  lofty  Latin  mount  looked  down  to 
punish  this  wretch,  whose  wickedness  and  abandoned  impu- 
rity had  so  often  polluted  thy  lakes,  thy  groves,  thy  hallowed 
bounds." 

From  Thomas,  Lord  Erskine's  great  oration  in  defense 
of  Lord  George  Gordon,  arraigned  for  his  life,  as  guilty 
of  rioting  and  burning  in  the  city  of  London,  we  quote — 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  3 1 7 

using  Lord  Campbell's  admirable  "  Lives  of  the  Lord 
Chancellors  " — one  example  more  : 

"  Now  was  witnessed  the  single  instance  recorded  in  our  ju- 
dicial annals  of  an  advocate  in  a  court  of  justice  introducing 
an  oath  by  the  sacred  name  of  the  Divinity;  and  it  was  intro- 
duced not  only  without  any  violation  of  taste  or  offense  to  pious 
ears,  but  with  the  thrilling  sensations  of  religious  rapture  caught 
from  the  lips  of  the  man,  who,  as  if  by  inspiration,  uttered  the 
awful  sound.  Arguing  upon  the  construction  of  certain  words 
attributed  to  Lord  George  Gordon,  he  exclaimed  :  '  But  this  I 
will  say,  that  he  must  be  a  ruffian  and  not  a  lawyer  who  would 
dare  to  tell  an  English  jury  that  such  ambiguous  words, hemmed 
closely  between  others,  not  only  innocent  but  meritorious,  are 
to  be  adopted  to  constitute  guilt,  by  rejecting  both  introduction 
and  sequel.'  Then,  after  noticing  the  offer  made  to  the  Gov- 
ernment by  the  prisoner  himself  to  quell  the  disturbance,  he 
ventured  upon  the  following  bold  and  extraordinary  sentence ; 
'  I  say,  by  God  !  that  man  is  a  ruffian  who  shall,  after  this, 
presume  to  build  upon  such  honest,  artless  conduct,  as  an  evi- 
dence of  guilt.'" 

The  sensation  produced  by  this  daring  appeal,  and  by 
the  magic  of  the  voice,  the  eye,  the  face,  the  action,  is 
related  by  those  present  to  have  been  electrical.  This 
was  in  1 78 1 .  The  young  nobleman,  justly,  was  acquitted. 
And  at  this  point  let  the  pulpit  orator  ask  himself  why 
can  he  never  mingle  appeal  to  God  or  Christ  with  state- 
ment or  argument.  Immense  effects  could  thus  be  pro- 
duced. It  is  never  done.  It  is  indefensible  that  it  never 
is  done.  The  point  is  a  very  great  one.  Even  heathen 
orators  put  some  pulpit  orators  to  shame. 

XCV.  Oath,  or  Adjuration,  deserves  a  separate  place, 
as  many  another  object  besides  the  Deity  may  be  sworn 
by.  Thus,  in  Shakespeare's  "Lear" — that  unsurpassed 
storehouse  for  preachers : 

"  For,  by  the  sacred  radiance  of  the  sun, 
The  mysteries  of  Hecate  and  the  night; 


318          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

By  all  the  operations  of  the  orbs 

From  whom  we  do  exist  and  cease  to  be, 

Here  I  disclaim  all  my  paternal  care  !" 

In  our  much-prized  modern  pulpit,  when  it  vindicates, 
as  ofttimes  it  doth,  its  old  apostolic  fires,  this  figure 
is  greatly  desirable;  as  if  a  mighty  preacher  were  to 
cry: 

By  yon  heaven,  the  home  of  the  righteous,  I  adjure  you;  and 
by  hell,  self-made  dungeon  of  the  impure  !  You  will  perish  if 
you  persist  in  this  crime  ! 

S.,  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  scene  ii.,  Romeo's  nth  speech. 
"  Richard  II.,"  act  Hi.,  scene  iii.,  Northumberland's  4th 
speech,  lines  5-11. 

Anathema,  a  form  of  condemnation  hurled  at  a  crime, 
can  be  grandly  employed.  Throwing  aside  his  papers, 
walking  from  side  to  side  of  the  pulpit,  lifting  his  heart 
and  voice  to  Jehovah,  the  speaker  can  cry  to  God  so  as 
to  shake  the  entire  audience.  But  perhaps  thou  art  dull 
and  tame,  and  makest  amends  by  being  very  correct  and 
safe.  Well,  thou  wilt  never  prove  to  be  Elijah ;  and 
bursts  of  sham  passion  in  the  pulpit  would  only  make 
you  and  the  pulpit  ridiculous. 

XCVI.  Command  is  a  form  of  words  much  the  same 
as  apostrophe ;  and  very  natural  to  the  impassioned 
mind ;  as,  Say  !  Mark  !  Look  !  Mrs.  Browning's  heart- 
stirring  poem,  "  The  Mask,"  in  which  her  diction  is  ad- 
mirably simple,  as  would  it  had  ever  been,  affords  us  this ; 
with  what  a  racy  flavor  of  the  old  ballads : 

"  Behind  no  prison-grate,  she  said, 

Which  slurs  the  sunshine  half  a  mile, 
Are  captives  so  uncomforted, 

As  souls  behind  a  smile. 
God's  pity  let  us  pray,  she  said. 

"  Ye  weep  for  those  who  weep  ?  she  said — 
Ah  fools !  I  bid  you  pass  them  by ; 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  .  319 

Go,  weep  for  those  whose  hearts  have  bled 

What  time  their  eyes  were  dry ! 
Whom  sadder  can  I  say?  she  said." 

"  The  Tempest,"  by  James  T.  Fields,  puts  this  before 
us: 

"  'Tis  a  fearful  thing  in  winter 

To  be  shattered  by  the  blast, 
And  to  hear  the  rattling  trumpet 
Thunder — '  Cut  away  the  mast !' " 

XCVII.  Exclamation  of  Sorrow  deserves  to  be  singled 
out  by  itself  from  other  forms  of  exclamation,  so  prom- 
inent is  it  in  all  forms  of  writing.  Thus  in  the  ludi- 
crous by  that  exceedingly  successful  author,  Charles 
Lever,  whose  novels  are  noted  triumphs  of  Irish  humor: 

"  Did  you  hear  of  the  Widow  Malone, 

Ohone ! 
Who  lived  in  the  town  of  Athlone, 

Alone ! 

O  she  melted  the  hearts 
Of  the  lads  in  them  parts ; 

So  lovely  the  Widow  Malone, 

Ohone ! 
So  lovely  the  Widow  Malone." 

Samuel  Lover,  another  inimitable  Irishman,  also  deal- 
eth  sorrowfully  in  widows : 

"  Widow  Machree,  when  winter  comes  In — 

Och  hone,  Widow  Machree  ! 
To  be  poking  the  fire  all  alone  is  a  sin — 

Och  hone  !  Widow  Machree ! 
Sure  the  shovel  and  tongs 
To  each  other  belongs, 
And  the  kettle  sings  songs 

Full  of  family  glee ; 
While  alone  with  your  cup 
Like  a  hermit  you  sup — 

Och  hone,  Widow  Machree  !" 


320  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

XCVIII.  Spiritualization  deserves  mention,  however 
shortly ;  let  us  be  lubricated  by  Samuel  Ferguson.  He 
speaks  of  a  pretty  maid  ;  we  see  a  material  object  turned 
to  an  ethereal  use  : 

"  She  brought  us,  in  a  beechen  bowl, 

Sweet  milk  that  smacked  of  mountain  thyme; 
Oat-cake ;  and  such  a  yellow  roll 
Of  butter — it  gilds  all  my  rhyme." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  3  2 1 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    ELEVENTH. 

Irony. — Antiphrasis. — Ironical  Permission,  or  Ironical 
Command. — Anti-Irony,  or  Pretended  Blame. — Mock- 
Heroic. — Personification,  or  Prosopopeia. 

XCIX.  IRONY  comes  before  us  next :  "  the  dry  mock," 
quoth  old  Puttenham.  When  a  speaker  expresses  him- 
self contrary  to  his  thoughts,  not  with  the  intention  of 
concealing  his  real  sentiments,  but  of  giving  greater  force 
to  them,  he  speaks  ironically.  You  can  not  but  be  fa- 
miliar with  the  instance  of  its  use  by  the  sublime  Elijah ; 
for  this  figure  is  stern  and  indignant,  suiting  the  lips  of 
a  great  reformer,  sent  of  Heaven  to  rebuke  an  oppressive 
king,  an  effeminate  nation,  or  a  brutal  city  mob.  I  Kings 
xviii.,  27.  Yet  it  is  to  the  praise  of  the  books  of  our 
faith  that  irony  occurs  very  seldom  in  them  ;  there  is 
too  much  of  contempt  in  it ;  these  books  have  no  con- 
tempt of  man,  even  when  they  brand  his  vices.  Eccles. 
xi.,  9;  Mark  vii.,  9.  We  open  Mr.  Plunkett's  speech  in 
the  old  Irish  Parliament  against  the  proposed  union  of 
England  and  Ireland : 

"  National  pride  !  Independence  of  our  country  !  These  we 
are  told  by  the  minister  are  only  vulgar  topics  fitted  for  the  merid- 
ian of  the  mob,  but  unworthy  to  be  mentioned  to  such  an  enlight- 
ened assembly  as  this.  They  are  trinkets  and  gewgaws  fit  to 
catch  the  fancy  of  childish  and  unthinking  people  like  you,  sir, 
or  like  your  predecessors  in  that  chair,  but  utterly  unworthy  of 
the  consideration  of  this  House,  or  of  the  matured  understand- 

X 


322          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

ing  of  the  noble  lord  who  condescends  to  instruct  it.  Gracious 
God  !  we  see  a  Perry  reascending  from  the  tomb,  and  raising  his 
awful  voice  to  warn  us  against  the  surrender  of  our  freedom ; 
and  we  see  that  the  proud  and  virtuous  feelings  which  warmed 
the  breast  of  that  aged  and  venerable  man  are  only  calculated 
to  excite  the  contempt  of  this  young  philosopher,  who  has  been 
transplanted  from  the  nursery  to  the  cabinet  to  outrage  the  feel- 
ings and  understanding  of  the  country." 

To  renew  our  study  of  Demosthenes — a  study  that 
characterizes  this  volume — "  A  fine  pretense  !"  is  an  ex- 
pression not  unusual  with  him  when  exposing  a  false  as- 
sertion. In  the  Crown,  turning  to  ^Eschines,  he  says  to 
him: 

"  Manifest  it  is,  forsooth,  that  you  are  grieved,  ^Eschines,  at 
these  events,  and  that  you  pity  the  Thebans;  you  who  have 
possessions  in  Bceotia;  you  who  have  made  their  lands  your 
own,  thriving  on  their  misery.  .  .  .  Any  one  may  see  most  clear- 
ly that  he  who  is  most  vigilant  in  defense  of  his  country,  and 
most  zealous  in  his  opposition  to  you,^Eschines,  and  your  gang 
of  bought  traitors,  is  after  all  your  best  friend,  who  makes  a 
market  for  you,  making  it  necessary  for  the  enemy  of  Athens 
to  pay  a  good  sum  for  you.  But  for  patriots,  and  the  influence 
and  number  and  obstinate  virtue  of  patriots,  you  traitors  would 
not  be  worth  buying.  You  would  bring  nothing  in  the  mar- 
ket." 

Whittier,  of  much  lyric  force,  lofty  moral  and  political 
principle,  inveighs  against  the  wickedness  of  imprisoning 
a  debtor  for  years: 

"  What  has  the  gray-hair'd  prisoner  done  ? 

Has  murder  stained  his  hands  with  gore  ? 
Not  so.     His  crime's  a  fouler  one — 
God  made  the  old  man  poor." 

In  the  tragedy  of  "  Catiline,"  by  Croly,  are  passages 
of  great  power,  expressed  in  the  simplest,  that  is,  the 
truest  language.  Mark  the  broken  exclamations,  the 
loud,  fearless  defiance,  the  fierce  Satanic  irony: 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  323 

"  *  Banished  from  Rome  !'     What's  banish'd,  but  set  free 
From  daily  contact  of  the  things  I  loathe  ? 
1  Tried  and  convicted  traitor !'     Who  says  this  ? 
Who'll  prove  it,  at  his  peril,  on  my  head  ? 
Banish'd  !     I  thank  you  for't.     It  breaks  my  chain. 
I  held  some  slack  allegiance  till  this  hour; 
But  now  my  sword's  my  own !     Smile  on,  my  lords. 
I  scorn  to  count  what  feelings,  wither'd  hopes, 
Strong  provocations,  bitter,  burning  wrongs, 
I  have  within  my  heart's  hot  cells  shut  up. 
I  leave  you  in  your  lazy  dignities. 
But  here  I  stand  and  scoff  you.     Here  I  fling 
Hatred  and  full  defiance  in  your  face. 
Your  consul's  '  merciful.'     For  this,  all  thanks ! 
He  dares  not  touch  a  hair  of  Catiline." 

Lord  Erskine  was  told  of  one  who  died  worth  two 
hundred  thousand  pounds.  He  observed — 

"  What  a  pretty  sum  to  begin  the  next  world  with." 

A  certain  bishop  was  notorious  for  malice  and  treach- 
ery. Said  Sydney  Smith : 

"  The  bishop  is  so  like  Judas  Iscariot,  that  I  now  firmly  be- 
lieve in  the  apostolical  succession." 

In  a  word,  as  satire  abounds  in  irony,  we  send  you  to 
study  this  figure  in  our  four  best  American  satirical  po- 
ems :  Lowell's  "  Fable  for  Critics ;"  Worth's  "  American 
Bards ;"  "  Truth,  a  New  Gift  for  Scribblers,"  by  Snelling; 
"The  Quacks  of  Helicon,"  by  Wilmer;  all  of  which 
will  amuse  you  greatly,  and  will  put  a  keener  edge  on 
your  critical  powers. 

C.  In  leaving  this  figure,  remark  that  when  it  lies  in 
a  single  word,  Antiphrasis  is  the  name.  This  is  the  use 
of  a  word  the  reverse  of  what  one  means  —  as  in  the 
expression,  "  The  sacred  love  of  gold ;"  or  as  when  we 
say  of  a  foolish  fellow,  "What  a  perfect  Solon  he  is." 
Puttenham  calls  it  the  "  broad  flout." 


324          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter atitre. 

CI.  Ironical  Permission,  or  Ironical  Command,  a  figure 
never  before  mentioned,  is  a  very  fine  one,  and  must  be 
classed  as  a  form  of  irony.  Our  attention  was  first  ar- 
rested by  it  in  the  pages  of  Scripture.  Isa.  1.,  1 1 ;  Eccles. 
xi.,  9;  Mark  xiv.,  41.  We  have  sometimes  thought  that 
this  figure  explains  the  command  of  Jesus  to  his  dis- 
ciples to  arm  themselves.  It  was  so  obviously  absurd 
for  such  a  handful  of  peasants  to  think  of  defying  the 
military  might  of  Rome.  John  xviii.,  10;  Luke  xxii., 
36,  38,  49-51.  Let  the  grand  lyrics  of  Isaiah  be  minute- 
ly studied  in  Lowth's  translation.  Or  open  the  pages 
of  Byron : 

"In  vain  !  in  vain  !     Strike  other  chords; 

Fill  high  the  cup  with  Samian  wine ! 
Leave  battles  to  the  Turkish  hordes, 

And  shed  the  blood  of  Scio's  vine  ! 
Hark !  rising  to  the  ignoble  call, 
How  answers  each  bold  bacchanal." 

CII.  Anti-Irony,  or  Pretended  Blame,  is  a  figure  which 
we  have  nowhere  seen  mentioned.  Irony  lies  in  pre- 
tended praise ;  this  in  pretended  blame.  Our  love  of 
blunt,  rough  honesty  of  speech  makes  it  popular.  There 
is  in  Scotland  a  poem,  to  which  we  have  already  refer- 
red, by  William  Millar,  on  "Wee  Willie  Winkie,"  the 
Genius  of  Infant  Slumber,  who  is  represented  as  endeav- 
oring in  vain  to  cause  certain  baby  eyes  to  wink  with 
sleep : 

"  Hey,  Willie  Winkie,  are  ye  comin'  ben  ? 
The  cat's  singin'  gay  thrums  to  the  sleepin'  hen. 
The  dog's  spelder'd  on  the  floor,  and  disna  gie  a  cheep; 
But  here's  a  waukrife  laddie  that  winna  fa'  asleep. 
Ony  thing  but  sleep,  ye  rogue — glowrin'  like  the  moon ; 
Rattlin'  in  an  airn  jug  wi'  an  airn  spoon. 
Wearie  is  the  mither  that  has  a  stoury  wean — 
A  wee  stumpie  stoussie  that  canna  rip  his  lane, 
That  has  a  battle  aye  wi'  sleep  before  he'll  close  an  e'e — 
But  a  kiss  frae  aff  his  rosy  lips  gies  strength  anew  to  me !" 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  325 

CIII.  The  Mock-Heroic  comes  next  in  view;  where 
grandiloquent  language  is  purposely  selected  to  set  forth 
small  ideas  or  to  depict  small  men.  Whole  productions 
have  been  written  in  ithis  style,  as  Tennant's  "  Anster 
Fair,"  and  Frere's  "  Whistle  Craft ;"  but  we  introduce  it 
here  in  reference  to  single  terms  and  brief  turns  of  dic- 
tion. Thus,  in  the  "  Husband's  Petition,"  by  Aytoun: 

"  I  feel  a  bitter  craving, 

A  dark  and  deep  desire, 
That  glows  beneath  my  bosom 

Like  coals  of  kindled  fire. 
The  passion  of  the  nightingale, 

When  singing  to  the  rose, 
Is  feebler  than  the  agony 

That  murders  my  repose. 

"  By  that  great  vow  which  bound  thee 

Forever  to  my  side, 
And  by  the  ring  that  made  thee 

My  darling  and  my  bride, 
Thou  wilt  not  fail  nor  falter, 

But  bend  thee  to  the  task— 
A  boil'd  sheep's  head  for  Sunday, 

Is  all  the  boon  I  ask." 

CIV.  Personification,  or  Prosopopeia,  the  ascribing  of 
life  and  personality  to  abstract  qualities,  such  as  Hatred 
or  Revenge,  or  to  objects  without  life.  This  is  a  figure 
than  which  none  is  more  important  or  more  natural  to 
man's  mind.  Scripture  overflows  with  the  boldest,  most 
beautiful  instances:  Jer.  xlvii.,  6;  Gen.  iv.,  10;  Rev.  vi., 
8;  Mic.  vi.,  1,2;  Hab.  iii.,  10;  Zech.xiii.,/.  It  is  the  very 
province  of  Passion  and  Imagination  to  people  the  air 
and  the  woods,  the. hours  of  morning  and  the  dusk  of 
evening,  with  living  beings.  A  twofold  process  is  car- 
ried on:  the  one,  the  bodying  forth  of  feelings,  senti- 
ments, ideas  of  the  mind,  in  beautiful  forms ;  the  other, 
the  ascription  of  the  mind's  properties  to  material  ob- 
jects. In  the  one  case,  to  the  mental  is  given  a  body ; 


326  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

in  the  other  is  given  to  body  a  mind.  An  appearance 
of  joyfulness  in  a  flower  gives  us  intense  delight.  We 
personify  it,  in  order  to  rejoice  in  it  the  more.  Emi- 
nently unselfish  is  this  delight.  We  rejoice  to  see  the 
flower,  not  as  if  it  were  ministering  to  us,  but  as  en- 
joying for  itself.  The  more  its  play  of  branches,  its 
smoothness  of  stalk,  its  vivid  green,  are  looked  on  by  us 
as  signs  of  its  own  happiness,  the  more  enjoyment  we 
have  in  gazing  on  it.  Personification  shows,  too,  that 
the  thing  most  interesting  to  man  is  man.  Even  Drake's 
first-rate  production,  "  The  Captive  Fay,"  written  as  an 
attempt  to  keep  out  every  thing  of  man,  owes  its  in- 
terestingness  to  the  fay's  being,  in  good  measure,  actu- 
ated by  feelings  like  our  own.  He  is  a  man  in  all  but 
size :  a  pocket-edition  of  ourselves. 

William  Dunbar  has  a  grand  poem,  "  The  Dance  of 
the  Seven  Deadly  Sins."  It  is  on  hell's  hot  floor  they 
dance.  Mahoun — Mohammed — once  a  common  name 
for  Satan,  gives  them  music.  Each  of  the  seven  is  a  ter- 
rific personage.  Anger  is  introduced  into  the  reel : 

"  Then  Ire  came  in,  with  sturt  and  strife, 
His  hand  was  aye  upon  his  knife." 

In  the  subjoined,  Charles  Fenno  Hoffman  has  given 
several  personifications : 

"Birds  are  in  woodland  bowers; 

Voices  in  lonely  dells; 
Streams  to  the  listening  hours 

Talk  in  earth's  secret  cells. 
Over  the  gray-ribbed  sand 

Breathe  ocean's  frothing  lips ; 
Over  the  still  lake's  strand 

The  flower  toward  it  dips. 
Pluming  the  mountain's  crest, 

Life  tosses  in  its  pines ; 
Coursing  the  desert's  breast, 

Life  in  the  steed's  mane  shines." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  .      327 

Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  named  by  his  friend  "  The  Shep- 
herd of  the  Ocean,"  calls  the  flowers — 

"You  pretty  daughters  of  the  Earth  and  Sun." 
John  Marston  describes  an  army  thus : 

"  Ghastly  Amazement,  with  upstarted  hair, 
Shall  hurry  on  before,  and  usher  us; 
While  trumpets  clamor  with  a  sound  of  death." 

Peele,  another  of  that  brood  of  undisciplined  dramatic 
giants,  in  his  "  David  and  Bathsheba,"  a  tragedy  written 
before  Shakespeare  came,  speaks  thus  of  a  fountain: 

"  The  brim  let  be  embraced  with  golden  curls 
Of  moss,  that  sleeps  with  sounds  the  waters  make." 

When  personification  goes  so  far  as  to  ascribe  speech 
to  the  thing  personified,  this  is  its  highest  point.  Far 
back  in  our  literature,  Gawin  Douglas  presents  to  us  an 
example  in  his  prologue  to  his  translation  of  Virgil's 
"^Eneid :" 

"  All  the  small  foulis  sang  thus  on  the  spray  : 
'  Welcome,  the  Lord  of  light  and  Lampe  of  day ! 
Welcome,  quickener  of  flourished  flowers  sheen ! 
Welcome,  fosterer  of  tender  herbs  green. 
Welcome,  support  of  every  root  and  vein  ; 
Welcome,  comfort  of  all  kind  fruit  and  grain  ; 
Welcome,  the  birds  bield  upon  the  brier ; 
Welcome,  master  and  ruler  of  the  year !'  " 

Next  let  us  refer  to  Matt,  vi.,  3,  and  ask  you  to  try  on 
it  your  skill  in  figures.  Bold  it  is,  but  how  natural.  Yet, 
after  all  the  many  years  we  have  given  to  this  subject, 
we  scarcely  know  where  to  place  it.  Is  it^iot  a  personi- 
fication of  the  left  hand,  and  of  its  next-door  neighbor, 
the  right  hand  ?  It  is  marvelous  how  numerous  are  the 
figures  which  Jesus  uses.  He  uses  them  by  the  score. 
It  is  evident  that  He,  a  thorough  orator  and  poet ;  yet 


328          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

oratory  and  poesy  was  half  silenced  in  Him  by  the  awe 

of  His  great  aims  and  mission. 

From  William  Mason's  tragedy  of  "  Caractacus,"  we 

quote  next : 

"  Behold  yon  oak. 

How  stern  he  frowns,  and  with  his  broad  brown  arms 
Chills  the  pale  plain  beneath  him.     Mark  yon  altar — 
The  dark  stream  brawling  round  its  rugged  base ; 
These  cliffs,  these  yawning  caverns,  this  wide  circus, 
Skirted  with  unhewn  stone.     They  awe  my  soul, 
As  if  the  very  Genius  of  the  place 
Himself  appear'd,  and  with  terrific  tread 
Stalk'd  through  his  drear  domain." 

We  know  of  scarcely  any  thing  finer  than  this  from  the 
sermons  of  Bishop  Sherlock,  which  we  now  take  from 
him:  « 

"  Go  to  your  Natural  Religion  •  lay  before  her  Mohammed  and 
his  disciples,  arrayed  in  armor  and  blood ;  riding  in  triumph 
over  the  spoils  of  thousands,  who  fell  by  his  victorious  sword. 
Show  her  the  cities  which  he  set  on  flames,  the  countries  which 
he  ravaged  and  destroyed,  and  the  miserable  distress  of  all  the 
inhabitants  of  the  East.  When  she  has  viewed  him  in  this 
scene,  carry  her  into  his  retirement ;  show  her  the  prophet's 
chamber ;  his  concubines  and  his  wives ;  and  let  her  hear  him 
allege  revelation  and  a  divine  commission  to  justify  his  adultery 
and  lust.  When  she  is  tired  with  this  prospect,  then  show  her 
the  blessed  Jesus,  humble  and  meek,  doing  good  to  all  the  sons 
of  men.  Let  her  see  Him  in  his  most  retired  privacies,  let  her 
follow  Him  to  the  mount,  and  hear  His  devotions  and  supplica- 
tions to  God.  Carry  her  to  His  table  to  view  His  poor  fare, 
and  hear  His  holy  discourse.  Let  her  attend  Him  to  the  tribu- 
nal, and  consider  the  patience  with  which  He  endured  the  scoffs 
and  reproaches^of  His  enemies.  Lead  her  to  His  cross ;  let 
her  view  Him  in  the  agony  of  death,  and  hear  His  last  prayer 
for  His  persecutors :  '  Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do.'  When  Natural  Religion  has  thus  viewed  both, 
ask  her,Which  is  the  prophet  of  God  ?  But  her  answer  we  have 
already  had,  when  she  saw  part  of  this  scene  through  the  eyes 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  329 

of  the  centurion,  who  attended  at  the  cross.    By  him  she  spake 
and  said, '  Truly  this  man  was  the  Son  of  God.'  " 

Thomas  Campbell  gives  us  proof  that  objects  of  art  do 
sometimes  reach  the  sublime : 

"Those  who  have  ever  witnessed  the  spectacle  of  the  launch- 
ing of  a  ship  of  the  line  will  perhaps  forgive  me  for  adding  this 
to  the  examples  of  the  sublime  objects  of  artificial  life.  Of 
that  spectacle  I  can  never  forget  the  impression,  and  of  having 
witnessed  it  reflected  from  the  faces  often  thousand  spectators. 
They  seem  yet  before  me.  I  sympathize  with  their  deep  and 
silent  expectation,  and  with  their  final  burst  of  enthusiasm.  It 
was  not  a  vulgar  joy,  but  an  affecting  national  solemnity.  When 
the  vast  bulwark  sprang  from  her  cradle,  the  calm  water  on 
which  she  swung  majestically  round  gave  the  imagination  a 
contrast  of  the  stormy  element  on  which  she  was  soon  to  ride. 
All  the  days  of  battle  and  the  nights  of  danger  which  she  had 
to  encounter ;  the  ends  of  the  earth  which  she  had  to  visit;  and 
all  that  she  had  to  do  and  to  suffer  for  her  country,  rose  in 
awful  presentiment  before  the  mind ;  and  when  the  heart  gave 
her  a  benediction,  it  was  like  one  pronounced  on  a  human 
being." 

To  see  how  differently  two  gifted  minds  treat  the  same 
subject,  take  a  speech  of  George  Canning,  the  English 
statesman  and  orator,  delivered  at  Plymouth  in  1823: 

"  Our  present  repose  is  no  more  proof  of  inability  to  act 
than  the  state  of  inertness  and  inactivity  in  which  I  have  seen 
those  mighty  masses  that  float  in  the  waters  above  your  town 
is  a  proof  that  they  are  devoid  of  strength,  and  incapable  of 
being  fitted  for  action.  You  well  know  how  soon  one  of  those 
stupendous  masses,  now  reposing  in  their  shadows  with  perfect 
stillness — how  soon,  upon  any  call  of  patriotism  oriof  necessity, 
it  would  assume  the  likeness  of  an  animated  thing  instinct  with 
life  and  motion  ;  how  soon  it  would  ruffle,  as  it  were,  its  swell- 
ing plumage  ;  how  quickly  it  would  put  forth  all  its  beauty  and 
bravery,  collect  its  scattered  elements  of  strength,  and  awaken 
its  dormant  thunders." 


330          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

How  full  our  literature  of  the  noblest  specimens  of 
this  figure  of  personification.  They  crowd  upon  us  in 
starry  groups.  Spurgeon  has  this : 

"  If  Christianity  were  put  down,  I  would  hang  the  world  in 
mourning,  and  make  the  Sea  the  chief  mourner,  with  its  dirge 
of  howling  winds,  and  its  wild  death -march  of  disordered 
waves." 

Says  old  Fuller  sublimely : 

"The  Pyramids,  doting  with  age,  have  forgotten  the  names 
of  their  founders." 

Leigh  Hunt,  in  his  "Remains,"  full  of  genius,  quaint- 
ness,  and  admirable  word-painting,  places  before  us  this 
dim,  strangely  striking  picture : 

"A  ghastly  Castle  that  eternally 
Holds  its  blind  visage  out  to  the  lone  Sea." 

Daniel  Webster,  in  his  Bunker  Hill  oration,  when  the 
monument  was  completed,  and  many  thousand  specta- 
tors stood  around  him,  said,  pointing  to  the  column : 

"  It  is  itself  the  orator  of  this  occasion.  It  is  not  from  my 
lips,  it  could  not  be  from  any  human  lips,  that  that  strain  of 
eloquence  is  this  day  to  flow  most  competent  to  move  and  to 
excite  the  vast  multitudes  around  me.  That  powerful  speaker 
stands  motionless  before  us." 

Take  a  specimen  from  Collins,  on  the  graves  of  heroes 
and  patriots : 

"  There  Honor  comes,  a  pilgrim  gray, 
To  bless  the  turf  that  wraps  their  clay." 

Thomas  Sackville,  Earl  of  Dorset,  sets  before  us  this 
lively  portrait  of  War,  in  his  justly  famous  "  Induction  " 
to  the  "  Mirrour  of  Magistrates:" 

"  Lastly,  stood  War  in  glittering  arms  yclad, 
With  visage  grim,  stern  look,  and  blackly  hued  \ 
In  his  right  hand  a  naked  sword  he  had, 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  33 1 

That  to  the  hilt  was  all  with  blood  embrued , 
And  in  his  left  (that  kings  and  kingdoms  rued) 
Famine  and  fire  he  held,  and  therewithal 
.     He  razed  towns,  and  threw  down  tower  and  hall." 

Bayard  Taylor  tells  us  how  the  poet  in  the  East  finds 
life  and  love  in  every  thing : 

"  His  feet  went  forth  on  the  myrtled  hills, 
And  the  flowers  their  welcome  shed ; 

The  meads  of  milk-white  asphodel, 
They  knew  the  poet's  tread ; 

And  far  and  wide,  in  a  scarlet  tide, 
The  poppy's  bonfire  spread. 

"  And  half  in  shade,  and  half  in  sun, 

The  Rose  sat  in  her  bower ; 
With  a  passionate  thrill  in  her  crimson  heart, 

She  had  waited  for  the  hour ; 
And  like  a  bride's,  the  poet  kiss'd 

The  lips  of  the  glorious  flower." 

John  Cunningham  has  written  many  pastoral  and  de- 
scriptive pieces,  full  of  a  charming  ease  and  simplicity. 
He  thus  narrates  of  a  country  nymph  very  dear  to  him : 

*'  Now  jocund  together,  we  tend  a  few  sheep ; 

And  if,  by  yon  prattler  the  stream, 
Reclin'd  on  her  bosom,  I  sink  into  sleep, 

Her  image  still  softens  my  dream. 
To  pomp  or  proud  titles  she  ne'er  did  aspire — 

The  damsel's  of  humble  descent ; 
The  cottager,  Peace,  is  well  known  for  her  sire, 

And  the  shepherds  have  named  her  Content." 

Turn  we  to  Tecumseh  and  his  Indians.  Armed  to  the 
teeth,  he  came  to  meet  General  Harrison.  At  this  coun- 
cil, by  some  oversight,  no  chair  had  been  provided  for 
the  chief.  He  instantly  detected  the  neglect,  and  his 
countenance  showed  his  sense  of  the  indignity.  Govern- 
or Harrison  saw  his  displeasure  and  caused  a  chair  to  be 
brought.  The  interpreter  presented  the  chair,  and  said, 


332          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"Your  father  wishes  you  to  be  seated."  Tecumseh, 
haughtily  lifting  himself  to  his  loftiest  stature,  looked 
down  upon  the  interpreter,  and,  waving  the  chair  from 
him,  in  tones  of  supreme  contempt  replied : 

"  My  father !  The  Sun  is  my  father,  and  the  Earth  is  my 
mother.  I  will  repose  upon  her  bosom." 

Then,  with  a  mien  of  sovereign  dignity  that  revealed  the 
born  king,  he  disposed  himself  on  the  ground,  after  the 
custom  of  his  fathers.  S.,  "  Antony  and  Cleopatra,"  act 
ii.,  scene  ii.,  line  23. 

In  an  exquisite  line  of  the  inimitable  Catullus — 

"  Ridere,  quidquid  est  Domi  cachinnorum  " — 

we  have  the  Home-laughers  addressed  as  though  they 
were  frank  and  hearty  rural  nymphs,  untamed  by  eti- 
quette, and  invoked  to  make  the  beloved  roof  re-echo 
with  their  bursts  of  honest  merriment.  How  impossible 
to  translate  such  a  line.  Leigh  Hunt  turns  it  thus : 

"  Laugh,  every  dimple  on  the  cheek  of  Home." 

Verily,  a  most  delightful  line.  But  "  cachinnorum  "  is 
not  nearly  so  slim  as  "  dimple." 

From  Owen  Meredith — son  and  successor  of  Sir  E.  L. 
Bulwer,  Lord  Lytton — we  gather  a  quotation  from  his 
"  Lucille :" 

"  There  is  war  in  the  skies ! 
Lo  the  black-winged  legions  of  tempest  arise 
O'er  those  sharp-splintered  rocks  that  are  gleaming  below 
In  the  soft  light,  so  fair  and  so  fatal ;  as  though 
Some  seraph  burned  through  them,  the  thunderbolt  searching 
Which  the  black  cloud  unbosom'd  just  now.    Lo  !  the  lurching 
And  shivering  pine-trees,  like  phantoms  that  seem 
To  waver  above  in  the  dark ;  and  yon  stream, 
How  it  hurries  and  roars,  on  its  way  to  the  white 
And  paralyzed  lake  there  ;  appalled  at  the  sight 
Of  the  things  seen  in  heaven." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  333. 

Or,  hastening  to  Byron,  this  noble  line  rushes  on  us : 
"  Red  Battle  stamped  his  foot,  and  nations  felt  the  shock." 

Not  any  thing  that  Charlotte  Bronte  has  given  us  is 
more  noble  than  her  Nature,  in  "  Shirley:" 

"Nature  is  now  at  her  evening  prayers;  she  is  kneeling  be- 
fore those  red  hills.  I  see  her  prostrate  on  the  great  steps  of 
her  altar,  praying  for  a  fair  night  for  mariners  at  sea;  for  travel- 
ers in  deserts ;  for  lambs  on  moors ;  and  unfledged  birds  in 
woods.  I  saw — I  see  now,  a  Woman-Titan;  her  robe  of  blue  air 
spreads  to  the  outskirts  of  the  heath,  where  yonder  flock  is 
grazing ;  a  veil,  white  as  an  avalanche,  sweeps  from  her  head 
to  her  feet,  and  arabesques  of  lightning  flame  on  its  borders. 
Under  her  breast  I  see  her  zone,  purple  like  that  horizon ; 
through  its  blush  shines  the  star  of  evening.  Her  steady  eyes 
I  can  not  picture — they  are  clear ;  they  are  deep  as  lakes ;  they 
are  lifted  and  full  of  worship;  they  tremble  with  the  softness 
of  love  and  the  lustre  of  prayer.  Her  forehead  has  the  ex- 
panse of  a  cloud,  and  is  paler  than  the  early  moon,  risen  long 
before  dark  gathers;  she  reclines  her  bosom  on  the  ridge  of 
Stilbro  Moor;  her  mighty  hands  are  joined  beneath  it.  So 
kneeling,  face  to  face,  she  speaks  with  God." 

Robert  Robinson,  Baptist  minister  at  Cambridge,  En- 
gland, thus  ventures  to  begin  a  sermon  on  the  words 
"  If  ye  love  me,  keep  my  commandments:" 

"  If  ye  love  me  !  If!  O  cruel  If!  Why  is  this  ?  Is  it  possi- 
ble that  this  can  be  a  doubt  ?  If  I  love  Thee  ?  Why,  it  would 
be  better  for  me  to  have  my  love  to  my  wife,  my  children,  my 
parents,  my  friends,  doubtful,  than  to  have  this  so.  O  this 
wicked  If!  O  that  I  could  tear  it  out  of  my  heart!  O  thou 
poison  of  all  my  pleasures  !  Thou  cold,  icy  hand  that  touches 
me  so  often,  and  freezes  me  with  the  touch  !  If!  If!" 

O  that  our  young  men  in  the  ministry  would  strive,  al- 
most unto  death,  to  study  and  pray  themselves  into 
mighty  orators  of  God ;  and  that  the  pulpit  might  vin- 
dicate itself  as  the  most  befitting  station  for  Eloquence 


334          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

to  occupy :  standing  there,  angel-like,  between  time  and 
eternity,  between  duty  and  sin,  between  God  and  Satan, 
between  heaven  and  hell.  Ezek.  xxxvi.,  i-io;  xxxvii., 

I-IO. 

A  distinction,  very  important  here,  suggests  itself.  Cer- 
tain epithets  express  personality  and  its  feelings ;  those 
that  do  so,  ascribing  emotions  to  inanimate  objects,  per- 
tain to  a  higher  realm  than  those  expressive  of  a  mere 
literal  fact.  You  may  call  the  oak,  aspiring — making 
manifest  the  very  soul  of  the  tree ;  or  you  may  term  it 
tall.  Sir  Walter  Scott  seldom  rises  higher  than  to  ad- 
jectives like  the  latter.  Wordsworth  is  continually  using 
adjectives  such  as  the  former.  Your  author  inflicts  on 
you  both  classes: 

The  moonlight  weird,  silvers  with  pale  affright 
The  trembling  waves  ;  the  tops  of  beech  and  pine ; 
And  Awe  reigns  thron'd  amid  yon  solemn  stars. 

"Weird,"  "  pale  affright,"  "  trembling,"  "  solemn,"  are  of 
the  emotional  impersonating  class;  the  latter  half  of  our 
second  line  is  merely  literal.  Shakespeare  is  a  supreme 
master  of  both  kinds.  William  Allingham,  in  his  delight- 
ful ballad,  "  Lovely  Mary  Donnelly,"  gives  us  this — not 
a  bit  too  absurd : 

"When  she  stood  up  for  dancing,  her  steps  were  so  complete, 
The  Music  nearly  kill'd  itself,  to  listen  to  her  feet." 

Very  graceful,  as  are  all  his,  and  light  of  touch,  is  Rob- 
ert Herrick's  address  to  the  "  Violets :" 

"  Welcome,  Maids  of  honor ! 
You  do  bring 
In  the  Spring, 
And  wait  upon  her." 

CV.  Ascription  of  Intention  to  an  object  incapable  of 
an  intention  or  purpose  is  one  of  the  most  pleasing  forms 
of  personification.  Thus,  in  Thomas  Davis,  the  justly 
celebrated  Irish  song  writer's  "  Banks  of  the  Lee :" 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  335 

"O  so  green  is  the  grass,  so  clear  is  the  stream, 
So  mild  is  the  mist,  and  so  rich  is  the  beam, 
That  beauty  should  never  to  other  lands  roam, 
But  make  on  the  banks  of  our  river  its  home ! 
When  dripping  with  dew, 
The  roses  peep  through, 
'Tis  to  look  in  at  you 

They  are  growing  so  fast; 
While  the  scent  of  the  flowers, 
Must  been  hoarded  for  hours — 
'Tis  pour'd  in  such  showers 
When  my  Mary  goes  past." 

CVI.  Anti-Personification.  To  show,  curiously,  with 
what  opposite  instruments  the  mind  can  work,  let  us  ob- 
serve th'at  to  represent  a  person  as  a  thing  may  energet- 
ically lower  or  ridicule ;  as  when,  of  John  Gilpin,  Cow- 
per  says  at  a  critical  moment  of  the  hero's  equestrian 
experience : 

"  The  horse  who  never  in  such  sort 

Had  handled  been  before, 
What  thing  upon  its  back  had  got 
Did  wonder  more  and  more." 

Or  mark  the  effect  in  the  subjoined  lines  of  Words- 
worth : 

"  How,  in  the  name  of  soldiership  and  sense, 
Should  England  prosper,  when  such  things,  as  smooth 
And  tender  as  a  girl,  all  essenced  o'er 
With  odors,  and  as  profligate  as  sweet, 
Who  sell  their  laurel  for  a  myrtle  wreath, 
And  love  when  they  should  fight ;  when  such  as  these 
Presume  to  lay  their  hands  upon  the  ark 
Of  her  magnificent  and  awful  cause  ?" 

A  third  instance  of  anti-personification  comes  before 
us  in  Henry  Grattan's  invective  against  Mr.  Cony,  Feb- 
ruary 14,  1800: 


336          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"Am  I  to  renounce  these  habits  now  forever;  and  at  the 
beck  of  whom — I  should  rather  say  of  what  ? — half  a  minister, 
half  a  monkey;  a  'prentice-politician,  a  master-coxcomb." 

See  2  Sam.  xvi.,  9.  Then,  what  pathos  in  the  cry  from 
the  heart  of  the  mighty  thinker,  Aristotle,  amid  the 
gropings  of  his  bewildered  reason  eagerly  seeking  for 
certainty.  When  baffled  in  his  attempts  to  discover  the 
cause  of  the  ebbing  and  flowing  of  the  sea,  he  cried  with 
anguished  voice  to  the  Great  One,  who,  he  knew,  was; 
but  of  whom,  as  to  what  he  was,  he  felt  that  he  had  as- 
certained so  little : 

"  O  Thing  of  Things  !  have  mercy  upon  me  !" 

Nothing  in  all  antiquity  more  touching. 

Contrast  the  feeling  which  we  meet  with,  in  this  cry 
on  the  part  of  the  mighty  intellect  of  Aristotle,  than 
whom  no  man  that  ever  lived  ruled  more  widely  among 
men  of  culture,  with  the  atheism  of  a  few  in  our  day, 
who  are  the  merest  pigmies  in  comparison  with  him. 
Aristotle,  unfavored  by  words  from  on  high,  is  agonized 
by  that  noble  aspiration  of  his  to  know  his  Creator,  to 
commune  with  the  Infinite  Thinker.  In  the  kingly  Gre- 
cian sage  we  see  intellect  pining  after  the  great  kindred 
intellect;  heart  thirsting  after  heart.  He  recognizes  not 
a  Power  only,  but  a  Person ;  not  merely  a  Person,  but  a 
Person  who  can  create  and  plan  and  interfere ;  not  mere- 
ly one  who  plans  and  interferes,  but  one  who  can  be 
sought  in  prayer,  can  answer  prayer,  can  melt  in  pity. 
Atheism  dwarfs  man ;  dwarfs,  beclouds  every  thing ;  dis- 
intellects  the  universe ;  dries  literature  into  sandy  dust ; 
but  to  pine  after  God  with  Aristotle,  to  pray  to  God 
with  Aristotle  and  Demosthenes,  as  in  the  course  of  our 
studies  we  have  naturally  come  on  them  doing,  is  to  soar 
with  the  noblest  minds  in  their  noblest  hour.  These 
are  facts,  for  which  we  have  referred  you  to  them.  If 
we  had  gone  craftily,  unnaturally,  in  search  of  these  facts 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  337 

— still  worse,  if  we  had  gone  in  fabrication  of  them — but 
no,  they  beamed  on  us  in  the  unartificial  course  of  pure 
literary  reading.  Mark,  too,  what  you  can  not  but  see, 
that  if  we  had  made  it  a  rule  to  quote  nothing  that  had 
prayer  or  worship  in  it,  we  would  have  left  unquoted  the 
most  sublime  things  in  this  volume.  How  contemptibly 
blind  our  atheists  are  !  How  ignorant  they  of  the  true 
science  of  man's  nature !  Not  only  false  to  the  sublime 
"  Thing  of  Things,"  the  God  who  gave  them  so  noble  a 
birth,  but  false  to  literature ;  false  to  man,  and  to  the 
progress  of  man ;  triply  false  to  science.  Let  them  re- 
member that  the  Past  hath  a  history,  this  one  of  its 
chapters :  that  literature,  without  worship,  can  not  reach 
its  highest.  Socrates,  Cicero,  Plato,  Demosthenes,  Aris- 
totle, all  the  five  were  men  of  gigantic  mould,  overflow- 
ing with  worship  and  with  prayer ;  any  little  finger  of 
theirs  more  priceless  than  the  whole  body  of  such  shal- 
low souls — shallow  compared  with  these  five. 

This,  too,  is  the  point  at  which  to  state — not  develop- 
ing them,  but  in  the  way  of  very  brief  suggestion— these 
three  thoughts: 

1.  Nothing  could  have  happened  better  for  Christian- 
ity than  the  present  atheistic  raid  against  God.     It  will 
bind  together,  and   is  so  doing,  all  who  own  and  ad- 
mire Aristotle's  "  Thing  of  Things."     The  sincere  deist 
and  the  devoted  Christian  will  feel  themselves  drawn 
toward  each   other;   the  Christian  seeking  and  finding 
Christ  in  nature,  which  blooms  all  over  with  figures  of 
Emmanuel ;  the  deist  learning;  if  he  kneel  humbly  at  the 
feet  of  God,  that  it  is  Christ  whose  bright  and  sover- 
eign feet   he   has   been   clasping.     All  lovers  of  Deity 
will  experience  priceless  benefits  from  the  Satanic  cry, 
"  Away  with  God !"     It  is  an  attempt  to  fire  the  com- 
mon homestead.     Would  that  all  the  impiety  may  take 
that  shape. 

2.  There  is  no  priestcraft  in  prayer.    In  the  Old  Testa- 
ment there  is  no  transubstantiation  in  the  Paschal  Lamb. 

Y 


338         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Why  was  not  the  lamb  of  the  passover  transubstan- 
tiated into  God?  We  saw  how  figurative  language, 
rightly  understood,  sweeps  away  this  dogma  of  the  Vati- 
can. Besides,  all  through  the  Old  Testament  the  priests 
are  carefully  kept  in  a  very  secondary  place ;  while  in  the 
New  Testament  they  disappear  altogether.  No  priest- 
craft in  worship  !  But  to  literature,  worship  and  prayer 
are  its  very  life-blood.  You  will  not  be  half  the  lawyer 
that  you  might  be,  if  you  be  not  permeated  by  prayer. 
Again  and  again  we  implore  you  to  think  of  Demos- 
thenes and  Aristotle.  No  small  smart  men  they;  but 
archangelic. 

3.  Our  clergy  might  be  braver  than  some  preachers  are. 
For  example,  they  should  not  only  maintain  that  there 
is  no  priestcraft  in  Holy  Writ — a  mere  negative  position  ; 
but  they  should  take  this  heroic  positive  position :  that 
man's  tendencies  are  such  that  he  has  no  safety  against,  no 
extirpator  of,  priestcraft,  so  mighty  as  Holy  Writ.  Man 
can  not  crush  down  priestcraft  save  through  Holy  Writ. 
'Look  at  Utah :  without  the  Bible,  they  plunged  into  a 
nauseous  and  tyrannic  spiritual  despotism.  Visit  the 
conclave  of  the  cardinals,  and  the  infallible  old  gentle- 
man there.  They  dread  the  Bible ;  they  brand  true  re- 
spect for  it,  and  obedience  to  it,  as  idolatry ;  Bible-idol- 
atry ;  and  forthwith,  to  be  consistent,  they  run  to  the 
crucifix  and  to  the  Virgin.  The  Bible,  being  the  great 
book  of  figures,  we  are  entitled  to  speak  of  it  in  this  vol- 
ume, nay,  we  are  compelled  to  speak  of  it  here ;  and  to 
say  of  it,  that  it  is  the  great  rampart  of  spiritual  liberty ; 
the  inspired  apostle  of  free-thinking:  such  free-think- 
ing as  trains  and  enables  men  to  breathe  mountain  air; 
the  mountain  air  of  true  disenthrallment  from  Prejudice. 
Spite,  Bigotry,  Priestcraft,  and  Atheism. 

But  it  is  time  to  change  the  subject.  Sir  Alexander 
Boswell,  son  of  the  Hon.  James  Boswell,  Johnson's  unsur- 
passed biographer,  has  written  very  successfully  a  few 
pieces  of  broad  humor,  in  one  of  which,  "Jenny's  Bawbee," 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  339 

a  suitor  in  love  with  the  young  lady's  bawbee,  or  half- 
penny— that  is,  figuratively,  her  fortune — cometh  to  grief: 

"  A'  spruce  frae  ban'-boxes  and  tubs, 
A  Thing  cam'  neist — but  life  has  rubs ; 
Foul  were  the  roads  and  fou  the  dubs; 

Ah  !  waes  me  ! 

*  I  kent,'  said  he, '  I  could  na  fail  '— 
She  preen'd  the  dish-clout  till  his  tail, 
And  cool'd  him  wi'  a  water-pail, 

And  keepit  her  bawbee." 

S.,  "  Coriolanus,"  act  iv.,  scene  v.,  Aufidius's  6th  speech, 
line  16;  scene  vi.,  Cominius's  loth  speech.  "Antony 
and  Cleopatra,"  act  iii.,  scene  iii.,  lines  39,  40. 

Jean  Ingelow,  a  poetess  of  our  day,  gives  us  one  more 
anti-personification : 

"  Against  her  ankles  as  she  trod, 
The  lucky  buttercups  did  nod ; 

I  leaned  upon  the  gate  to  see. 
The  sweet  thing  look'd,  but  did  not  speak; 
A  dimple  came  in  either  cheek, 

And  all  my  heart  was  gone  from  me." 

CVII.  Enhancement  by  Difference,  or  the  Illustration 
of  what  is  by  what  is  not,  merits  a  place.  If  we  do  not 
name  it  well,  Burns  exemplifies  it  well ;  it  has  been  left 
to  us,  at  this  late  day,  to  register  and  name  it : 

"'Tis  not  the  surging  billow's  roar; 
'Tis  not  that  fatal,  deadly  shore ; 
Though  death  in  every  shape  appear, 
The  wretched  have  no  more  to  fear. 
But  round  my  heart  the  ties  are  bound — 
That  heart  transpierced  with  many  a  wound; 
These  bleed  afresh,  these  ties  I  tear 
To  leave  the  bonnie  banks  of  Ayr." 

Mr.  Stephens,  the  American  traveler,  always  clear  and 


34O          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

interesting,  in  his  "  Incidents  of  Travel,"  places  us  in  an 
ancient  Eastern  city,  such  as  Nineveh  or  Petra : 

"  I  would  that  the  skeptic  could  stand,  as  I  did,  among  the 
ruins  of  this  city,  and  there  open  the  sacred  book,  and  read  the 
words  of  the  inspired  penman  written  when  this  desolate  place 
was  one  of  the  greatest  cities  of  the  world.  I  see  the  scoff  ar- 
rested, his  cheek  pale,  his  lip  quivering,  and  his  heart  quaking 
with  fear,  as  the  ancient  city  cries  out  to  him,  in  a  voice  loud 
and  powerful  as  one  risen  from  the  dead.  Though  he  would  not 
believe  Moses  and  the  prophets,  he  believes  the  handwriting  of 
God  himself,  in  the  desolation  and  eternal  ruin  around  him." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  341 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    TWELFTH. 

Egoism.  —  Self-depreciation.  — Paranomasia. — A  ntanacla- 
sis.  — Soliloquy.  — Direct  A  ddress.  — Dialogue. — Predic- 
tion.— A  nticipation.  — Pretended  Omission. — Paralepsis, 
or  Apophasis. — Disparity. — Outward  Illustration. — Ac- 
companiment.— Meeting  of  Opposites. 

CVIII.  EGOISM,  the  introduction  of  one's  own  opin- 
ion, wants,  or  experience :  the  bringing  one's  self  indi- 
vidually before  the  audience,  is  at  times  necessary  to 
give  an  air  of  life  to  oratory ;  or  to  show  befitting  ear- 
nestness : 

"  The  business  I  see  is  advancing," 

cries  Demosthenes.     Hear  the  energetic  Lord  Brough- 
am: 

"  I  have  read  with  astonishment,  and  I  repel  with  scorn,  the 
insinuation  that  I  had  acted  the  part  of  an  advocate,  and  that 
some  of  my  statements  were  colored  to  serve  a  cause.  How 
dares  any  man  so  to  accuse  me  ?  How  dares  any  one,  skulk- 
ing under  a  fictitious  name,  to  launch  his  slanderous  imputations 
from  his  covert  ?  I  come  forward  in  my  own  person.  I  make 
the  charge  in  the  face  of  day.  I  drag  the  criminal  to  trial.  I 
openly  call  down  justice  on  his  head.  I  defy  his  attacks.  I 
defy  his  defenders.  I  challenge  investigation." 

Cowper,  the  poet  of  the  Cross,  thus  speaks  of  certain 
vain  speculations: 


342          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Defend  me,  therefore,  Common-sense,  say  I, 
From  reveries  so  airy;  from  the  toil 
Of  dropping  buckets  into  empty  wells, 
And  growing  old  in  drawing  nothing  up." 

Dr.  John  M.  Mason,  in  his  deservedly  admired  ser- 
mon, "  The  Gospel  for  the  Poor,"  gives  us  this  form  ;  the 
statement  of  a  personal  want  common  to  him  with  all 
his  hearers : 

"  He  who  pretends  to  be  my  comforter  without  consulting 
my  immortality,  overlooks  my  essential  want.  The  Gospel 
supplies  it.  Immortality  is  the  basis  of  her  system.  These 
are  Christian  views.  They  stamp  new  interest  on  all  my  re- 
lations and  all  my  acts.  They  hold  up  before  me  objects  vast 
as  my  wishes,  terrible  as  my  fears,  and  permanent  as  my  being. 
And  again :  If  I  ask  how  I  am  to  be  delivered,  human  reason 
is  dumb.  The  more  I  ponder  the  Gospel  method  of  salvation, 
the  more  am  I  convinced  that  it  displays  the  divine  perfection. 
My  worst  fears  are  dispelled ;  the  wrath  to  come  is  not  for  me ; 
I  can  look  with  composure  at  futurity;  and  feel  joy  springing 
up  with  the  thought  that  I  am  immortal." 

This  fine  sermon  is  full  of  similar  forms  of  egoism,  all  of 
them  perfectly  untainted  with  egotism.  Musing  on  such 
sermons  as  this,  we  need  no  other  proof  of  Christ's  con- 
summate wisdom  as  the  Legislator  for  all  nations  and 
ages,  than  His  having  given  to  preaching  the  leading 
place  He  has  assigned  to  it — "  Go  ye  into  all  the  world 
and  preach."  The  pulpit  never  can  be  superseded  by  the 
newspaper  or  the  printing-press.  Nothing  like  the  pow- 
er of  a  living  voice,  which  proclaims  the  conscience- 
arousing,  the  heart-satisfying  Gospel  truths ;  and  which 
need  not  be  surpassed,  in  poesy,  in  sublimity,  in  pathos. 
Psa.  Ixvi.,  13-20. 

CIX.  Self-depreciation  may  be  used  at  times  with  good 
effect.  Yet  as  egoism  must  not  savor  of  egotism,  so  self- 
dispraise  would  be  nauseous  if  in  the  least  it  resembles 
mock-modesty.  The  eloquent  and  tasteful  Esprit  Fie- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  343 

chier  gives  us  an  inoffensive  example  in  his  masterpiece 
on  the  death  of  Marshal  Turenne : 

"  Pardon  a  little  confusion  in  my  treatment  of  a  subject  that 
has  caused  us  so  much  grief.  I  may  sometimes  confound  the 
general  of  the  army  with  the  sage  and  the  Christian.  Through 
the  whole  I  shall  strive  to  win  your  attention,  not  by  the  force 
of  eloquence,  but  by  the  reality  and  greatness  of  the  virtues 
about  which  I  am  engaged  to  speak." 

In  a  form  somewhat  different,  Saurin  says,  at  the  close 
of  a  sermon,  very  affectingly : 

"  Alas !  it  is  this  general  influence  which  these  exhortations 
ought  to  have  over  our  lives,  that  makes  us  fear  we  have  ad- 
dressed them  to  you  in  vain.  How  often  have  you  sent  us 
empty  away,  even  when  we  demanded  so  little.  What  will  you 
do  to-day  ?" 

CX.  Paranomasia,  the  Pun,  we  have  at  length  arrived 
at:  emphatically,  the  wit  of  words;  a  trick  of  verbal 
cleverness,  founded  on  the  circumstance  of  two  or  more 
words  of  similar  sound  having  different  meanings.  A 
certain  law  lord  in  Scotland  was  noted  for  his  pompous 
way  of  speaking.  Telling  Harry  Erskine  one  day  that 
an  acquaintance  had  fallen  from  a  stile  and  sprained  his 
ankle,  said  Erskine : 

"  It  is  a  mercy  he  did  not  fall  from  your  style,  else  he  would 
have  broken  his  neck." 

CXI.  In  the  precise  language  of  Rhetoric,  when  the 
same  word  is  repeated  in  a  different  sense,  this  species 
of  pun  is  called  Antanaclasis,  as  in  the  expression : 

"While  we  live,  let  us  live;" 
or  in  this : 

"  Learn  some  craft  while  you  are  young,  that  when  old  you 
may  live  without  craft." 

A  person  explaining  about  acids  in  a  very  prosy  way 


344          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

to   Charles   Lamb,   Lamb    stopped    him   with   the    re- 
mark: 

"  The  best  of  all  acids  is  assiduity." 

Said  Hancock,  on  the  sublime  occasion  when  your 
fathers  were  signing  the  Declaration  of  American  Inde- 
pendence, and  when  the  English  king  would  have  hanged 
them  if  he  could  : 

"We  must  be  unanimous;  there  must  be  no  pulling  differ- 
ent ways." — "Yes,"  said  Franklin,  "we  must  all  hang  togeth- 
er, or  most  assuredly  we  shall  all  hang  separately." 

Paranomasia  has  obtruded  itself  even  on  tombstones. 
Nothing  in  Greek  learning  is  more  difficult  than  the 
particles — the  numerous  one-syllabled  adverbs  and  con- 
junctions. A  certain  Dr.  Walker  had  won  considerable 
fame  by  a  treatise  on  these.  But  the  word  particles 
means,  too,  grains  of  dust ;  so  the  Doctor  ordered  this 
for  his  epitaph : 

"  Here  lies  Walker's  particles." 

In  a  similar  strain,  the  celebrated  Thomas  Fuller  has 
this  inscription  over  his  dust  in  Westminster  Abbey: 

"Here  lies  Fuller's  earth." 

From  the  old  city  of  Byzantium  there  came,  as  em- 
bassador  to  Athens,  Leon,  a  very  little  and  deformed 
man.  He  stood  up  to  speak.  At  sight  of  him  the 
Athenians  burst  into  violent  laughter,  so  that  he  could 
not  be  heard.  At  length  he  said : 

"What  would  you  say,  then,  did  you  but  see  my  wife?  She 
hardly  reaches  to  my  knees.  Yet,  little  as  we  are,  when  we 
disagree  the  city  of  Byzantium  is  not  large  enough  to  hold  us." 

Or  go  once  again  to  the  Scottish  lawyer  and  wit, 
Harry  Erskine.  Some  acquaintances  came  on  him  sud- 
denly as  he  was  digging  potatoes  in  his  garden : 

"  This  is  otium  cum  diggin'  a  tattle,"  quoth  he — 
(Otium  cum  dignitate,  Ease  with  dignity). 


«  Figures  of  Rhetoric.  345 

CXII.  Soliloquy  is  the  next  figure  with  which  we  pro- 
ceed :  a  dialogue  which  the  writer  or  speaker  carries  on 
with  himself.  In  this,  Scripture  is  peculiarly  rich.  Luke 
xii.,  1 6-2 1.  Psa.  vi.,  6,  1 1 ;  xiv.,  I ;  cxvi.,  7, 12, 13.  Luke 
xv.,  17-19.  Job  xxxix.,  25.  A  figure  very  capable  of 
admirable  uses.  You  remember  the  expression  in  one 
of  the  Psalms : 

"God  is  not  in  all  his  thoughts." 
But  in  the  original  Hebrew  it  reads: 
"  All  his  thoughts  are  :  '  There  is  no  God.'  " 

How  much  more  vivid.  A  fair  example  of  the  inferi- 
orities that  abound  in  our  version.  Not  inaccurate  state- 
ments ;  not  falsehoods ;  but  far  short  it  comes  in  vivac- 
ity, impressiveness,  and  a  thousand  literary  charms ;  and 
the  grandeurs  of  many  a  heroic  page. 

CXIII.  Direct  Address,  by  a  third  party,  an  impor- 
tant figure,  is  distinguished  from  Dialogue  by  this,  that 
neither  the  speaker  himself  nor  any  other  makes  any 
direct  reply.  Even  this,  however,  is  eminently  fitted  to 
produce  vivacity  of  style.  What  higher  instance  of  the 
sublime  than  that  which  we  find,  appropriately,  near  the 
opening  of  Genesis,  when  Jehovah  is  revealed  looking 
forth  on  chaos,  and  He  said : 

" '  Light,  be ! '  and  light  was." 

See  also  Rev.  vi.,  16;  Mark  xiii.,  6,  21.  The  third  per- 
son introduced  speaking  utters  the  very  sentiment  suit- 
ed to  the  circumstances ;  what  need,  therefore,  of  any 
reply  ?  The  following  is  from  one  of  our  best  poems,  by 
Charles  Swain: 

"O  the  old,  old  clock,  of  the  household  stock, 

Was  the  brightest  thing  and  neatest ; 
The  hands,  though  old,  had  a  touch  of  gold, 
And  its  chime  rang  still  the  sweetest. 


346          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

'Twas  a  monitor,  too,  though  its  words  were  few, 
Yet  they  lived,  though  nations  altered ; 

And  its  voice,  still  strong,  warn'd  old  and  young, 
When  the  voice  of  friendship  falter'd. 

*  Tick,  tick,'  it  said ;  '  quick,  quick  to  bed ; 

For  ten  I've  given  warning; 
Up,  up,  and  go ;  or  else,  you  know, 

You'll  never  rise  soon  in  the  morning.' " 

From  Seba  Smith,  author  of  "  The  Letters  of  Major 
Jack  Downing,"  the  following  direct  address  proceeds : 

"The  cold  winds  swept  the  mountain-height, 

And  pathless  was  the  dreary  wild, 
And  mid  the  cheerless  hours  of  night 

A  mother  wandered  with  her  child. 
As  through  the  drifting  snow  she  press'd, 
Her  babe  was  sleeping  on  her  breast. 

"  And  colder  still  the  winds  did  blow, 

And  darker  hours  of  night  came  on, 
And  deeper  grew  the  drifting  snow; 

Her  limbs  were  chill'd,  her  strength  was  gone. 

*  O  God  !'  she  cried,  in  accents  wild, 
'  If  I  must  perish,  save  my  child.'  " 

By  one  special  variety  of  this  figure,  a  vivid  effect  may 
be  produced  ;  when  the  third  party  is  commanded  to 
utter  certain  words,  these  being  put  in  his  mouth.  See 
Isa.  xl.,  9.  Or,  in  the  way  of  American  humor,  take  the 
speech  of  the  treed  coon  to  the  sportsman  whose  gun  is 
pointed  at  him — a  promise  and  a  prediction : 

"Don't  fire,  Colone,!;  I'll  come  down." 

In  Abbadie's  "  Sermon  on  the  Sacrifice  of  Abraham," 
the  patriarch  is  introduced  expressing  in  his  own  words 
his  contending  emotions  on  receiving  the  command  to 
offer  up  Isaac — a  mode  of  treating  the  subject  that  has 
often  been  adopted. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  347 

By  Edmund  Clarence  Stedman,  a  writer  deft  and  orig- 
inal, we  are  presented  with  a  speech  by  the  Moon,  short 
but  to  the  purpose,  encouraging  a  youth  to  an  act  oscu- 
latory : 

"  A  cloud  pass'd  kindly  overhead, 

The  Moon  was  slyjy  peeping  through  it, 
Yet  hid  its  face,  as  if  it  said — 

*  Come  !     Now  or  never !     Do  it !  do  it !'  " 

CXIV.  Dialogue  is  a  fo^m  into  which,  with  much  ef- 
fect, an  argument  or  burst  of  feeling  may  be  thrown. 
In  Demosthenes,  on  the  Crown,  he  introduces  a  state- 
ment by  his  opponent,  ^Eschines,  and  replies  to  it.  The 
reply  constitutes  it  dialogue : 

"  '  He  who  reproaches  me  with  the  intimacy  of  Alexander !' 
— I  reproach  thee  with  the  intimacy  of  Alexander !  How  couldst 
thou  obtain  it?  How  couldst  thou  aspire  to  it?  I  could  never 
call  thee  Philip's  friend,  nor  Alexander's  intimate.  I  am  not 
so  insane ;  unless  we  are  to  call  the  menial  servants,  who  toil 
for  their  wages,  the  friends  and  intimates  of  those  who  deign  to 
hire  them." 

Here  the  dialogue  is  between  the  speaker  or  writer  and 
another ;  but  it  may  take  place  between  other  two  per- 
sons or  more,  the  speaker  not  taking  part  in  it.  Why 
this  so  seldom  in  our  pulpits  ?  This  form  of  language  is 
admirably  fitted  to  give  energy  and  impassioned  life  to 
oratory  or  argument.  Carefully  scan  the  inspiring  ex- 
amples: Isa.  xl.,6;  Lukexii.,  20;  xiii.,  25-27;  Isa.  Ixiii., 
1-6.  By  dialogue  is  not  meant  dramatic  writing,  where 
the  whole  is  dialogue,  but  the  introducing  of  a  short  di- 
alogue in  a  piece  non-dramatic.  Take  Alexander  Coch- 
ran's  "  Pilot :" 

"The  waves  are  high,  the  night  is  dark, 

Wild  roam  the  foaming  tides, 
Dashing  around  the  straining  bark, 
As  gallantly  she  rides. 


348          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

1  Pilot,  take  heed  what  course  you  steer; 

Our  bark  is  tempest-driven  !' 
Stranger,  be  calm ;  there  is  no  fear 

For  him  who  trusts  in  Heaven." 

For  the  pulpit,  a  dialogue  might  often  be  introduced 
between  the  Preacher  and  Eternity : 

O  dread  Eternity,  I  ask  thee  to  tell,  how  can  man  live  in 
safety  on  earth  ? 

And  Eternity,  looking  down  on  me  from  heaven,  speaks 
and  says : 

Despise  the  bribes  of  sin !  Give  not  up  thy  soul  to  things 
perishable  ?  Give  God  the  chief  place  in  thy  heart ! 

Or  Life  and  Death  might  be  made  the  interlocutors ;  or 
Sin  and  Hell ;  or,  as  by  Bourdaloue  on  Christ's  death, 
Conscience  and  Passion.  Of  course,  this  implies  strong 
emotion,  and  therefore  such  dialogues  should  be  short 
and  rapid.  Well-conducted,  they  might  be  used  with 
noble  effect  by  a  Christ-made  man  worthy  of  the  Chris- 
tian pulpit — that  loftiest  home  of  eloquence.  Or  the 
audience  before  him  might  be  addressed,  and  the  re- 
ply, which  they  would  be  ashamed  not  to  give,  might 
be  put  in  their  lips.  You  are,  we  dare  say,  familiar  with 
the  example  from  the  greatest  of  mere  human  orators, 
because  so  virtuous,  Demosthenes: 

"  For  I " — thus  he  addresses  ^Eschines— "  and  all  these  with 
me,  call  you  a  hireling,  first  of  Philip,  and  now  of  Alexander ! 
If  you  doubt,  ask  these  present ;  but  I  will  rather  do  it  for  you. 
Does  it  seem  to  you,  Athenians,  that  ^Eschines  is  a  hireling,  or 
a  guest  of  Alexander  ?  Do  you  hear  what  they  say  ?" 

In  this  case,  the  audience  itself  shouted  "  Hireling !" 
A  dangerous  experiment  for  an  inferior  orator.  Be  pity 
for  him  whose  cry  in  his  heart  is — "  Let  me  always  be 
tame  !  no  grand  effort  come  ever  from  my  commonplace 
lips." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  349 

In  a  speech  of  Brougham  in  the  House  of  Lords,  he 
supposes  his  audience  to  reply  to  the  question  he  had 
just  put  to  them.  He  was  urging  the  necessity  of  Par- 
liamentary reform : 

"  Among  the  awful  considerations  which  now  bow  down  my 
mind,  there  is  one  which  stands  pre-eminent  above  the  rest. 
You  are  the  highest  judicature  in  the  realm  ;  you  sit  here  as 
judges,  and  decide  all  causes,  civil  and  criminal,  without  ap- 
peal. It  is  a  judge's  first  duty  never  to  pronounce  sentence  in 
the  most  trifling  cause  without  hearing.  Will  you  make  the 
exception?  Are  you  really. prepared  to  determine,  but  not  to 
hear,  the  mighty  cause  upon  which  'hang  a  nation's  hopes  and 
fears  ?  You  are  ?  Then  beware  of  your  decision !" 

The  reverend  and  eccentric  Rowland  Hill  was  preach- 
ing in  the  open  air,  in  that  suburban  part  of  London  de- 
nominated Moorfields,  from  the  Song  of  Solomon,  i.,  5 — 
"  I  am  black  but  comely;"  which  he  explained  as  having 
reference  to  the  Church  of  Christ,  which  in  the  sight  of 
the  world  was  black — black  as  the  tents  of  Kedar,  but  in 
the  sight  of  her  glorified  Head  was  comely — comely  as 
the  curtains  of  Solomon.  While  enlarging  on  the  sub- 
ject, Lady  Anne  Erskine  happened  to  pass  that  way. 
She  asked  her  servants  what  was  the  cause  of  the  very 
large  assemblage  of  people.  They  replied  that  it  was 
the  renowned  Rowland  Hill,  who  was  addressing  the  peo- 
ple. Lady  Anne  said  she  had  long  cherished  a  desire  to 
hear  that  eccentric  man  preach,  and  should  now  have  it 
fully  gratified,  and  desired  her  charioteer  to  bring  her  as 
near  as  possible,  that  she  might  hear  every  word  he  said. 
She  was  soon  in  the  rear  of  the  temporary  pulpit,  the 
only  place  where  it  was  possible  to  get  near  him.  The 
gorgeous  accession  that  had  taken  place  to  the  congrega- 
tion, and  the  brilliant  and  sparkling  appearance  of  Lady 
Anne,  attracted  the  attention  of  the  congregation  more 
than  the  preacher,  but  Rowland  Hill's  observant  eyes  de- 
tected the  movements,  and  he  resolved  on  a  hazardous 
but  effective  remedy.  He  paused,  and  then  said : 


350         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Brethren,  I  bespeak  your  attention  for  a  few  moments.  I 
am  now  about  to  hold  an  auction  or  vendue.  I  have  here  a 
lady  and  her  whole  equipage  to  expose  to  public  sale,  but  the 
lady  is  the  principal  and  only  object  I  wish  to  dispose  of  at 
present.  Well,  there  are  already  three  earnest  bidders  in  the 
field.  The  first  is  the  World  :  well,  and  what  will  you  give  for 
her  ?  I  will  give  honors,  wealth,  and  pleasure.  That  won't  do 
— she's  worth  more  than  that,  for  she  shall  continue  to  live 
when  the  honors,  wealth,  and  pleasure  you  have  it  in  your 
power  to  bestow  shall  vanish  as  the  darkness  of  night  before 
orient  beams  :  you  can't  have  her.  The  next  bidder  is  the 
devil :  well,  and  what  will  you  give  for  her  ?  I  will  give  all  the 
kingdoms  of  the  world  and  the  glory  of  them.  That  won't  do 
either,,  for  she  shall  continue  to  exist  when  the  kingdoms  of  the 
world  and  the  glory  of  them  shall  have  vanished  as  a  snow- 
wreath  beneath  a  vernal  shower  :  you  can't  have  her.  But  list ! 
I  hear  the  voice  of  another — it  is  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  well, 
and  what  will  You  give  for  her  ?  I  will  give  an  inheritance  that 
is  incorruptible,  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away,  eternal  in 
the  heavens.  Blessed  Jesus  !  Just  as  I  expected — just  like 
the  liberality  that  Thou  art  wont  to  display!  Well,  I  will  place 
her  at  Thy  disposal — she  is  black  but  comely — and  Thou  shalt 
be  the  purchaser.  Let  Heaven  and  Earth  attest  this  irrevo- 
cable contract." 

Turning  to  Lady  Anne,  he  said — 

"  Madam,  have  you  heard  this  contract  that  Heaven  and 
Earth  hath  irrevocably  attested?  Remember  that  from  this 
time  forth  and  for  evermore  you  are  the  property  of  the  Lord 
Jesus."  He  died  to  redeem  you — you  are  purchased  with  His 
blood.  Can  you,  dare  you  reject  it  ?" 

The  arrow  thus  sped  at  a  venture  found  its  way  to  the 
heart  of  Lady  Anne,  and  she  became  emineritly  useful. 

In  an  intensely  beautiful  piece  by  George  Herbert, 
he  describes  himself  as  wholly  abandoning  his  soul  to 
unbelief  and  rebellious  utterances  against  God  and  self- 
denial.  The  piece,  however,  concludes  with  this  inim- 
itable bit  of  dialogue : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  351 

"  But  as  I  raved  and  grew  more  fierce  and  wild, 

At  every  word, 

Methought  I  heard  One  calling, '  Child  !' 
And  I  replied, '  My  Lord  !'  " 

This  figure  is  to  us  so  fascinating  that  we  find  a  dif- 
ficulty in  leaving  it.  It  is  astonishing  to  us  that  it  is  so 
rare  in  the  pulpit.  You  will  thank  us  for  this  example 
from  De  la  Rue.  It  is  supposed  to  be  your  own  death- 
bed, to  which  you  have  let  yourself  come  unprepared — 
alas !  unprepared ! 

"  How  will  your  mind  be  prepared  when  all  these  embarrass- 
ments together  shall  overwhelm  you  at  death  ?  When  all  the 
parts  of  your  frame  shall  say  to  you,  by  the  exhaustion  of  your 
death, '  Think  of  us  !'  When  your  domestics  shall  say  to  you, 
by  their  feebly  acknowledged  and  ill-requited  services,  *  Think 
of  us !'  When  your  affairs  shall  say  to  you,  by  the  disorder 
into  which  you  have  thrown  them,  *  Think  of  us  !'  When  your 
creditors  shall  say  to  you.  at  the  sight  of  their  goods  confound- 
ed with  yours,  '  Think  of  us  !'  When  those  persons  who  are 
dear  to  you  shall  say,  by  'their  sighs,  alas !  for  the  last  time, 
'  Think  of  us !'  Torn  on  every  side ;  distracted  by  so  many 
different  cries,  your  reason,  at  its  last  gasp,  shall  cry  from  the 
bottom  of  your  conscience, '  Think  of  thyself,  miserable  man  ! 
Think  of  thyself.  Leave  every  thing  besides,  and  think  only 
of  thyself.'  My  dear  brother,  my  dear  friend,  will  your  feeble 
reason  be  able  to  make  itself  heard  ?" 

Directing  your  attention  to  our  great  model,  Demos- 
thenes, to  whom  we  are  ever  referring,  though  our  read- 
ers know  that  we  have  a  greater  still  in  our  Saviour,  there 
is  the  passage  in  his  First  against  Philip,  which  Longinus 
quotes  as  a  fine  instance  of  those  figures  which  give  life 
and  energy  to  an  oration.  Mark  how  he  continually 
uses  the  interrogation  also : 

"  When,  then,  men  of  Athens — when  will  you  do  what  is  nec- 
essary ?  When  roused  by  some  startling  event  ?  When  forced, 
O  Heaven,  by  some  fatal  necessity  ?  What,  then,  are  we  to 


352          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

judge  of  our  present  condition  ?  In  my  opinion,  to  freemen 
the  disgrace  attending  on  misconduct  is  the  most  urgent  ne- 
cessity. Or  tell  me,  is  it  your  ambition,  wandering  the  pub- 
lic places,  to  inquire  each  of  the  other, '  What  news  ?'  What 
more  new  can  there  be  than  a  man  of  Macedonia  conquering 
Athenians,  and  giving  laws  to  the  Greeks  ? — '  Is  Philip  dead  ?' 
— 'No,  by  Heaven,  but  he  is  in  bad  health.' — What  difference 
does  that  make  to  you  ?  For  even  if  he  should  meet  some  fatal 
stroke,  you  would  soon,  by  this  neglect  of  your  interests,  raise 
up  another  Philip." 

Here  every  sentence,  every  half  sentence,  contains  a  fig- 
ure ;  yet  nothing  could  be  freer  from  the  artificial  and 
the  tawdry. 

But  perhaps  the  most  sublime  instance  of  this  figure  is 
in  John  Leland's  astonishing  sermon,  "  The  Jarrings  of 
Heaven  reconciled  by  the  Blood  of  Christ,"  in  which 
Holy  Law,  Truth,  Justice,  Holiness,  Omnipotence,  Wis- 
dom, Love,  Grace,  Mercy,  the  Great  I  Am,  the  Son  of 
God,  the  Angels,  Hell,  all  take  part  as  speakers  in  the 
unsurpassed  discussion.  You  will  find  this  unique  and 
stupendous  drama  in  Fish's  "  Masterpieces  of  Pulpit  Elo- 
quence," vol.  ii.,  page  454.  We  consider  this  to  be  the 
grandest  drama  ever  produced  by'  man  ;  beyond  even 
what  Shakespeare  ever  gave  us. 

Anselm,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  1109,  a  theologian 
of  the  most  remarkable  depth,  clearness,  force,  and  living 
piety,  wrote  a  most  important  little  treatise  in  Latin, 
"  Cur  Deus,  Homo,"  translated  in  the  "  Bibliotheca  Sacra," 
October,  1854,  and  January,  1855.  We  quote  the  follow- 
ing from  another  of  his  writings,  a  direction  for  the  visit- 
ation of  the  sick.  Blessed  are  we  if,  sick  or  in  health,  we 
follow  this  direction : 

"  Dost  thou  believe  that  thou  canst  not  be  saved  but  by  the 
death  of  Christ  ?  The  sick  man  answereth,  '  Yes.'  Then  let 
it  be  said  to  him  :  '  Go  to,  then,  and  while  thy  soul  abideth  in 
thee  put  thy  confidence  in  this  death  alone ;  place  thy  trust  in 
no  other  thing;  commit  thyself  wholly  to  this  death;  cover  thy- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  353 

self  wholly  with  this  alone ;  cast  thyself  wholly  on  this  death ; 
wrap  thyself  wholly  in  this  death;  and  if  God  would  judge  thee, 
say, '  Lord,  I  place  the  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  between 
me  and  Thy  judgment.'  And  if  He  shall  say  unto  thee  that 
thou  art  a  sinner,  say,  '  I  place  the  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  between  me  and  my  sins.'  If  He  shall  say  unto  thee, 
1  Thou  hast  deserved  damnation,'  say, '  Lord,  I  put  the  death  of 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  between  Thee  and  all  my  sins;  and  I  offer 
His  merits  instead  of  my  own,  which  I  ought  to  have,  but  have 
not.'  If  He  shall  say, '  I  am  angry  with  thee,'  say,*  Lord,  I  place 
the  death  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  between  me  and  all  Thy 
thunderbolts.' " 

How  impetuous  does  the  German  Korner's  "  Sword- 
song  "  ring  with  dialogue  —  between  the  hero  and  his 
iron  bride: 

"  Sword,  on  my  left  side  gleaming, 
What  means  thy  bright  eye's  beaming? 
It  makes  my  spirit  dance 
To  see  thy  friendly  glance — 
Hurrah!" 

"  And  I  to  thee,  by  Heaven, 
My  light  steel-life  have  given ; 
When  shall  the  knot  be  tied? 
When  wilt  thou  take  thy  bride  ? 
Hurrah!" 

CXV.  Prediction,  the  pointing  out  of  the  consequen- 
ces ;  the  brandishing,  before  the  party  addressed,  the 
dread  results,  is  a  figure  natural  to  the  mind  when  in  an 
excited  state,  and  when  firm  in  the  faith  of  what  it  urges. 
Lord  Chatham  is  calling  on  the  British  House  of  Lords 
to  repeal  the  acts  obnoxious  to  the  Americans : 

"  I  say  we  must  necessarily  undo  these  violent,  oppressive 
acts.  They  must  be  repealed.  You  will  repeal  them.  I  pledge 
myself  for  it  that  you  will,  in  the  end,  repeal  them.  I  stake 
my  reputation  on  it.  I  will  consent  to  be  taken  for  an  idiot 

Z 


354          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

if  they  are  not  finally  repealed.  Avoid,  then,  this  humiliating, 
disgraceful  necessity." 

A  prediction  that  was  verified.  After  a  war  of  three 
years'  duration  the  acts  were  repealed.  But  it  was  then 
too  late.  This  figure  especially  befits  the  highest  form 
of  oratory,  as  again  and  again  we  have  exultingly  called 
it ;  that  which  we  should  hear  from  the  Christian  pulpit. 
In  the  commanding  confidence  of  faith,  let  the  sacred 
orator  unveil  the  future  before  the  eye  of  conscience,  the 
heaven  of  sublime  work,  progress,  and  purity;  the  hell 
of  fathomless  and  burning  remorse.  As  Theremin,  in  his 
priceless  essay  on  "  Eloquence  as  a  Virtue,"  tells  the 
preacher : 

"  You  are  weak  and  fearful  so  long  as  you  would  rest  upon 
yourself;  dare  to  regard  yourself  as  the  organ  of  a  higher 
Being,  and  you  are  all  power  and  all  courage.  Faith  plants 
you  firm  and  sure  ;  your  teaching  is  no  longer  that  of  the  Phari- 
sees, unmeaning  sound  and  useless  hair-splitting ;  you  teach 
with  power  like  Jesus  himself;  for  He  spake  the  words  of  His 
Father,  and  you  speak  His." 

The  incorruptible  Irish  patriot,  Henry  Grattan,  on 
moving  a  declaration  of  Irish  Right,  April  19,  1780,  thus 
concluded,  in  three  sentences  noted  for  their  slow  and 
dignified  rhythm : 

"I  never  will  be  satisfied  so  long  as  the  meanest  cottager  in 
Ireland  has  a  link  of  the  British  chain  clanking  to  his  rags. 
He  may  be  naked;  he  shall  not  be  in  irons.  And  I  do  see 
the  time  at  hand — the  spirit  is  gone  forth— the  Declaration  of 
Rights  is  planted  ;  and  though  great  men  should  fall  off,  yet 
the  cause  shall  live  ;  and  though  he  who  utters  this  should  die, 
yet  the  immortal  fire  shall  outlast  the  humble  organ  who  con- 
veys it,  and  the  breath  of  liberty,  like  the  word  of  the  holy  man, 
will  not  die  with  the  prophet,  but  survive  him." 

So  Dr.  Griffin,  at  the  close  of  an  appeal  for  Missions,  pre- 
dicts the  success  of  his  appeal: 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  355 

"  But  the  heathen  shall  not  reproach  us.  It  shall  be  known 
in  heaven  that  we  could  pity  our  brethren.  We  will  send  them 
all  the  relief  in  our  power,  and  will  enjoy  the  luxury  of  reflect- 
ing what  happiness  we  may  entail  on  generations  yet  unborn, 
if  we  can  only  effect  the  conversion  of  a  single  tribe." 

CXVI.  Anticipation,  a  figure  not  before  catalogued,  is 
very  near  of  kin  to  the  last.  It  is  one  of  the  most  felici- 
tous. "  The  murdered  man,"  spoken  of  by  Keats  in  the 
following,  has  not  yet  been  slain,  but  his  death  is  planned; 
a  glare  of  the  ghastly  is  thrown  over  the  whole  passage ; 
the  more,  if  the  events  amid  which  he  plays  his  part  be, 
as  yet,  joyous.  It  is  as  though  a  figure  draped  in  the 
habiliments  of  the  grave  were  to  stalk  through  a  ball- 
room : 

"  So  the  two  brothers  and  their  murdered  man 
Went  on  their  way  to  Venice." 

CXVII.  Paralepsis;  CXVIII.  Apophasis,  or  Pretended 
Omission,  is  our  next :  in  which  the  speaker  pretends  not 
to  mention  circumstances  which  yet  all  the  while  he  is 
mentioning.  Paul  gives  a  fine  example  in  his  elegant 
and  courteous  letter  to  Philemon.  How  admirably  what 
Paul  saith  to  Philemon,  in  behalf  of  Onesimus,  may  Christ 
say  to  God  the  Father  for  each  of  us  sinners  : 

"  If  he  hath  wronged  thee  or  owed  thee  aught,  put  that,  O 
God  the  Father,  on  mine  account." 

Then  mark  how  Paul  mentions  not  what  services  he  had 
done  for  Philemon. 

In  Scott's  almost  perfect  poem,  "  The  Lady  of  the 
Lake,"  an  example  of  pretended  omission,  in  the  form  of 
interrogation  and  of  consultation  with  the  reader,  occurs 
in  his  picture  of  the  daughter  of  the  Douglas : 

"  Her  kindness  and  her  worth  to  spy, 
You  need  but  gaze  on  Ellen's  eye; 
Not  Katrine  in  her  mirror  blue 
Gives  back  the  shaggy  banks  more  true, 


356          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter atiire. 

Than  every  free-born  glance  confess'd 
The  guileless  movements  of  her  breast ; 
Whether  joy  danced  in  her  dark  eye, 
Or  woe  or  pity  claim 'd  a  sigh, 
Or  filial  love  was  glowing  there, 
Or  meek  devotion  pour'd  a  prayer, 
Or  tale  of  injury  call'd  forth 
The  indignant  spirit  of  the  North. 
One  only  passion,  unreveal'd, 
With  maiden  pride  the  maid  conceal'd, 
Yet  not  less  purely  felt  the  flame — 
O  need  I  tell  that  passion's  name?" 

Let  Demosthenes  speak  once  again ;  it  is  in  his  Second 
Philippic,  reminding  the  Athenians  of  the  glory  of  their 
ancestors : 

"  He  finds  out,  I  ween,  and  hears  that  these  your  ancestors, 
it  being  in  their  option  to  rule  the  other  Greeks,  if  but  they 
would  obey  the  Persian  king,  not  only  would  not  tolerate  this 
proposal  when  Alexander,  the  ancestor  of  these  Macedonians, 
came  as  the  hireling  herald  of  these  terms ;  but  that  they  pre- 
ferred to  abandon  Athens,  and  to  suffer,  enduring  patiently 
whatever  might  befall ;  and  that  thereafter  they  did  such  deeds 
as  all  men,  through  all  ages,  are  eager  to  recount,  but  which  no 
one  is  able  eloquently  enough  to  tell;  wherefore  I  too  shall 
pass  them  by.  Justly  so.  For  greater  the  deeds  of  these  your 
forefathers  than  that  any  one  can  utter  them  in  any  words." 

We  feel  quite  sure  that  if  you  are  familiar  with  the 
style  of  Paul,  you  have  not  but  been  struck  by  its  simi- 
larity to  the  style  of  Demosthenes,  as  when  the  apostle 
cries : 

"And  what  shall  I  more  say?  for  the  time  would  fail  me  to 
tell  of  Gideon,  and  of  Barak,"  and  of  others. 

The  similarity  of  tone  in  the  Greek  is  very  striking. 

CXIX.  Disparity  claims  the  next  place.  Most  anxious 
we,  not  needlessly  to  increase  the  number  of  figures;  yet 
we  are  convinced  that  disparity  deserves,  for  the  first 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  357 

time,  a  place ;  the  opposite  of  simile.  Scripture,  teem- 
ing with  all  varieties  of  figures,  comes  to  our  aid :  Matt, 
vi.,  29;  viii.,  20;  xi.,  7-9,  23,  24.  Or  listen  to  Shake- 
speare speaking  in  his  kingly  way,  on  recommending  a 
humble  state: 

"  Often  to  our  comfort  shall  we  find 
The  sharded  beetle  in  a  safer  hold 
Than  is  the  full-winged  eagle." 

"  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  act  iii.,  scene  iii.,  Romeo's  5th 
speech,  lines  2-5  ;  act  iv.,  scene  v.,  Nurse's  6th  speech, 
lines  8-10.  "  Macbeth, "act  iv., scene ii., lines 9-11.  "  Mer- 
chant of  Venice,"  act  ii.,  scene  vi.,  Gratiano's  3d  speech. 
"  Richard  II.,"  act  iii.,  scene  iii.,  King  Richard's  4th 
speech,  lines  5-11.  Very  much  has  been  done  with  Simi- 
larities. Now  let  us  use  Dissimilarities.  A  forest  teem- 
ing with  illustrations  waits  upon  you.  A  forest  unsur- 
veyed  by  any  writer. 

CXX.  Outward  Illustration  is  another  arousing  figure, 
not  previously  enumerated :  an  illustration  drawn  from 
some  present  outward  object  or  objects,  as  when  Horatio 
says  to  Hamlet : 

"  The  apparition  comes  !     I  know  your  father. 
These  hands — are  not  more  like." 

Holding  forth  his  two  hands,  and  comparing  the  one 
with  the  other.  That  can  not  be  called  an  incident,  or 
sudden  present  occurrence.  It  is  not  an  occurrence  at 
all.  No  nobler  ever  than  that  by  Paul ;  lifting  up  in 
presence  of  Agrippa  his  hands  on  which  the  fetters 
clanked,  and  exclaiming: 

"Would  ye  were  altogether  such  as  I  am,  except  these 
bonds." 

S.,  "  Henry  IV.,"  part  i.,  act  i.,  scene  iii.,  Hotspur's 'iith 
speech,  line  4 ;  "  Henry  IV.,"  part  ii.,  act  iv.,  scene  i.,  the 


358          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Archbishop's  loth  speech,  line  16.  To  this  figure,  drawn 
from,  not  an  occurrence,  but  an  object,  belongs  what  has 
been  termed  "  the  most  magnificent  passage  in  our 
oratory."  The  tapestry  of  the  House  of  Lords  repre- 
sented the  English  fleet  led  by  the  ship  of  the  Lord  Ad- 
miral Efrmgham  Howard,  ancestor  of  Lord  Suffolk,  to 
engage  the  Spanish  Armada.  Lord  Suffolk  had  under- 
taken to  defend  the  employment  of  the  Indians  against 
the  Americans  in  the  War  of  Liberty.  Lord  Chatham 
thus  rebuked  him : 

"These  abominable  principles,  and  this  more  abominable 
avowal  of  them,  demand  the  most  decisive  indignation.  I  call 
upon  that  right  reverend  Bench,  those  holy  ministers  of  the 
Gospel  and  pious  pastors  of  our  Church;  I  conjure  them  to 
join  in  the  holy  work,  and  vindicate  the  religion  of  their  God. 
I  invoke  the  Genius  of  the  Constitution.  From  the  tapestry 
that  adorns  these  walls,  the  immortal  ancestor  of  this  noble 
lord  frowns  with  indignation  at  the  disgrace  of  his  country. 
In  vain  he  led  your  victorious  fleets  against  the  boasted  Arma- 
da of  Spain  ;  in  vain  he  defended  and  established  the  honor,  the 
liberties,  the  religion — the  Protestant  religion — of  this  country 
against  the  arbitrary  cruelties  of  Popery  and  the  Inquisition,  if 
these  more  than  Popish  cruelties  and  inquisitorial  practices  are 
let  loose  among  us — to  turn  forth  into  our  settlements,  among 
our  ancient  connections,  friends,  and  relations,  the  merciless 
cannibal,  thirsting  for  the  blood  of  man,  woman,  and  child;  to 
send  forth  the  infidel  savage — against  whom  ?  Against  your 
Protestant  brethren ;  to  lay  waste  their  country,  to  desolate 
their  dwellings,  and  extirpate  their  race  and  name  with  these 
horrible  hell-hounds  of  savage  war — hell-hounds,  I  say,  of  sav- 
age war." 

Mark  the  egoism  with  which  this  unsurpassed  orator 
closes. 

To  a  speech  at  Liverpool,  January  10,  1814,  by  Mr. 
Canning,  we  betake  ourselves.  Britain  was  springing 
forward  to  take  her  place  as  a  leading  potentate  in  land 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  359 

warfare.  On  the  wall  of  the  room  in  which  he  spoke 
there  was  a  figure  of  Neptune : 

"  That  fabled  deity,  whom  I  see  portrayed  upon  the  wall, 
was  considered  as  the  exclusive  patron  of  British  prowess  in 
battle;  but  in  seeming  accordacne  with  the  beautiful  fiction  of 
ancient  mythology,  our  Neptune,  in  the  heat  of  contest,  smote 
the  earth  with  his  trident,  and  up  sprang  the  fiery  war-horse, 
the  emblem  of  military  power." 

What  an  elegant  classical  allusion,  too,  is  this ! 

Although  this  impressive  figure  suits  a  speaker  best, 
yet  even  a  writer  may  avail  himself  of  it  in  his  study ; 
as  in  this  sentence  of  Dr.  Paley  in  his  "  Natural  Theol- 
ogy," a  book  to  be  bought: 

"  Every  single  feather  is  a  mechanical  wonder.  I  know  few 
things  more  remarkable  than  the  strength  and  lightness  of  the 
very  pen  with  which  I  am  now  writing." 

The  close  of  Bossuet's  "  Funeral  Sermon  on  the  Prince 
of  Conde ';  furnishes  a  noble  instance  of  outward  illus- 
tration : 

"  Instead  of  deploring  the  death  of  others,  great  Prince,  I 
would  henceforth  learn  from  you  to  render  my  own  death 
holy.  Happy  I,  if  reminded,  by  these  white  locks  of  mine,  of 
the  account  which  I  must  give  of  my  ministry.  I  reserve 
for  the  flock  which  I  have  to  feed  with  the  Word  of  Life  the 
remnants  of  a  voice  that  falters  and  an  ardor  which  is  fading 
away." 

How  much  ingenuity  can  a  preacher  display,  in  discov- 
ering innumerable  outward  facts  that  can  be  made  use 
of,  to  impress  the  truths  which  he  sets  forth ! 

CXXI.  Accompaniment  is  a  kind  of  Outward  Illustra- 
tion. You  meet  it  in  noble  exemplification  in  "  O'Con- 
nor's Curse" — (Matt,  iii.,  17!) — what  may  be  termed  In- 
cidentalism  of  the  moment: 


360          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  A  bolt  that  overhung  our  home 

Suspended  till  my  curse  was  given, 
Soon  as  it  pass'd  my  lips  of  foam, 
Peal'd  in  the  blood-red  heaven." 

CXXII.  Meeting  of  Opposites  in  one  subject  deserves 
a  special  name.  S.,  "  Macbeth,"  act  L,  scene  iii.,  1st  and 
2d  Witch,  iQth  speech,  2Oth,  and  2ist.  We  have  an  ap- 
proach to  this  at  the  close  of  scene  v. : 

"  Look  like  the  innocent  flower, 
But  be  the  serpent  under  it." 

Burns  puts  mice  and  men  as  dissimilars: 

"  The  best  laid  schemes  o'  mice  and  men 
Gang  aft  agley." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  361 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

FIGURES    O.F    RHETORIC. 

PART    THIRTEENTH. 

Sound  Resembling  Sense,  or  Onomatopy. — Interrogation,  or 
Rrotesis. — Question  and  Answer  —  Re  sponsion  or  Re- 
sponding.— Exclamation,  Ecphonesis,  or  Epiphonema. — 
Nomination. 

CXXIII.  OUR  next  rhetorical  figure  is  Onomatopy, 
where  the  sound  resembles  the  sense.  There  is  a  re- 
semblance between  the  sound  of  the  language  you  em- 
ploy and  the  sounds  or  movements  made  by  the  object 
described;  or  else  the  words  you  use  produce  by  their 
sound  or  their  cadence  a  state  of  feeling  similar  to  the 
feeling  produced  by  the  thing  spoken  of.  Fine  ex- 
amples abound  in  the  sonorous  Greek  of  Homer,  him 
through  whose  deep  soul  the  ocean  billows  resounded. 
When  Goldsmith  speaks  of 

"  The  varnish'd  clock  that  click'd  behind  the  door," 

the  tick,  tick,  tick  carries  us  back  to  the  old  years  and 
deathless  memories.  Byron  tells  us  of  Lake  Leman, 
how  on  the  ear 

"  Drops  the  light  drip  of  the  suspended  oar, 
And  chirps  the  grasshopper  one  good-night  carol  more." 

Southey's  "  Lodore  Waterfall "  is  a  very  talented 
imitation  of  the  confusion,  the  intermingling,  the  ever- 
varying  din  and  brawl  and  unresting  varieties  of  a  cas- 
cade: 


362  Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  How  does  the  water 
Come  down  at  Lodore  ? 
Rising  and  leaping, 

Sinking  and  creeping;  t 

Dividing  and  gliding  and  sliding, 
And  falling  and  brawling  and  sprawling, 
And  bubbling  and  troubling  and  doubling, 
And  rushing  and  flushing  and. brushing  and  gushing, 
And  flapping  and  rapping  and  clapping  and  slapping, 
And  thumping  and  plumping  and  bumping  and  jumping, 
And  dashing  and  flashing  and  splashing  and  clashing, 
All  at  once  and  all  o'er,  with  a  mighty  uproar — 
And  this  way  the  water  comes  down  at  Lodore." 

The  following  by  Dyer,  in  his  heavy  pastoral,  "  The 
Fleece,"  now  hopelessly  forgotten,  represents  well  a 
tower's  sudden,  quick  fall,  the  dash  of  some  parts  in  the 
gurly  dark  river  flowing  at  the  base ;  the  rough  sound 
of  other  parts  of  the  edifice  on  the  mountain-side ;  the 
crash  of  the  main  bulk : 

"  The  pilgrim  oft 

At  dead  of  night  'mid  his  oraison  hears, 
Aghast,  the  voice  of  time-disparted  towers, 
Tumbling  all  precipitate  down — dash'd, 
Rattling  around,  loud  thundering  to  the  moon." 

Pope  writes  ably  of  the  importance  of  making  the 
verse  picture  the  theme : 

"  Soft  is  the  strain  when  zephyr  gently  blows, 
And  the  smooth  strain  in  smoother  numbers  flows. 
But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore, 
The  hoarse,  rough  verse  should  like  the  torrent  roar. 
When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 
The  line  too  labors  and  the  words  move  slow ; 
Not  so  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain, 
Flies  o'er  the  unbending  corn  and  skims  along  the  main." 

Campbell  lets  us  hear  the  cry  of  the  wolf: 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  363 

"There  comes  across  the  waves'  tumultuous  roar 
The  wolf's  long  howl  from  Oonalaska's  shore." 

Let  us  surrender  ourselves  to  Coleridge's  mystery,  in 
"  Christabel  i" 

"  The  night  is  chill,  the  forests  bare  ; 
Is  it  the  wind  that  moaneth  bleak  ? 
There  is  not  wind  enough  in  the  air 
To  move  away  the  ringlet  curl 
From  the  lovely  lady's  cheek — 
There  is  not  wind  enough  to  twirl 
The  one  red  leaf,  the  last  of  its  clan, 
That  dances  as  often  as  dance  it  can, 
Hanging  so  light,  and  hanging  so  high, 
On  the  topmost  twig  that  looks  up  at  the  sky." 

Spenser,  to  him  next.  He,  the  first  who  rolled  forth 
our  English  melody: 

"The  joyous  birds,  shrouded  in  cheerful  shade, 
Their  notes  unto  the  voice  attempered  sweet; 
Th'  angelical,  soft,  trembling  voices  made 
To  the  instruments  divine  respondence  meet. 
The  waters'  fall,  with  difference  discreet, 
Now  soft,  now  loud,  unto  the  wind  did  call ; 
The  gentle  warbling  wind  low  answered  to  all." 

In  his  "  Penseroso,"  Milton  is  exquisite : 

"  Oft  on  a  plot  of  rising  ground 
I  hear  the  far-off  curfew  sound, 
Over  some  wide-water'd  shore 
Swinging  slow  with  sullen  roar." 

Or  contrast,  in  "  Paradise  Lost,"  the  opening  of  Heav- 
en's gates  with  the  opening  of  Hell's  gates.  First,  Hell's 
gates  open : 

"  On  a  sudden  open  fly, 
'  With  impetuous  recoil  and  jarring  sounds, 
The  infernal  doors,  and  on  their  hinges  grate 
Harsh  thunder." 


364          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Listen  then  to  Heaven's  gates  opening: 

"  Heaven  opens  wide 

Her  ever-during  gates,  harmonious  sounds, 
On  golden  hinges  turning." 

P.  L.,  ii.,  1021,  1022,  948,  950 ;  vi.,  546.    In  the  last,  mark 
the  r's. 

In  Shakespeare  the  representative  power  of  u,  a,  and 
o  are  admirable : 

"  And  thou,  all-shaking  Thunder, 
Strike  flat  the  thick  rotundity  o'  the  world." 

Tennyson's  famous  line  is  familiar  to  you : 

"  The  league-long  roller  thundering  on  the  reef." 

It  is,  however,  but  a  small  victory  to  represent  in 
sounds  the  voices  and  movements  of  things  outward — 
the  dash  on  the  beach  ;  the  rustling  of  forest  leaves ;  the 
melodies  of  the  birds ;  the  roar  of  the  Afric  lion;  but 
the  victory  is  great  when  the  varying  states  of  the  mind 
are  represented.  Observe  how  beautifully  the  reluctant 
parting  from  life  is  expressed  in  the  last  line  of  the  sub- 
joined, from  Gray's  "  Elegy,"  which  utters  every  body's 
feeling : 

"  For  who,  to  dumb  forgetfulness  a  prey, 

This  pleasing,  anxious  being  e'er  resigned ; 
Left  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful  day, 
Nor  cast  one  longing,  lingering  look  behind  ?" 

Who  so  torpid  as  not  to  feel  how  different  the  state  of 
the  mind  represented  by  Bishop  Corbett  in  his  pleasant 
"  Farewell  to  the  Fairies,"  when  he  is  telling  what  serv- 
ices they  rendered  in  their  time,  now  gone  forever,  to 
the  housewives : 

"  At  morning  and  at  evening  both, 

You  merry  were  and  glad, 
So  little  care  of  sleep  or  sloth 
These  pretty  ladies  had. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  365 

When  Tom  came  home  from  labor, 

And  Cis  from  milking  rose, 
Then  merrily  went  their  tabor, 

And  nimbly  went  their  toes." 

We  refer  you  to  two  great  poems,  Dryden's  "  Ode  on 
St.  Cecilia's  Day,"  and  Collins's  "  Ode  to  the  Passions," 
for  some  admirable  instances  of  mental  conditions,  fitly 
set  forth  by  changes  in  the  rhythm  and  in  the  words. 
But  to  conclude  with  a  slighter  example  in  a  would-be 
satirical  vein,  take  Dr.  Darwin's  allusion : 

"  Hear  the  pretty  ladies  talk- 
Tittle  tattle,  tittle  tattle ! 
Like  their  pattens  when  they  walk — 
Pittle  pattle,  pittle  pattle." 

We  close  this  figure  by  stating  that  in  Mr.  Gladstone's 
opinion,  in  his  "  Homer  and  the  Homeric  Age,"  Homer, 
Shakespeare,  and  Dante  excel  all  others  in  expressing 
the  nature  of  their  thought  by  the  flow  and  rhythm  of 
their  verse ;  and  that,  seemingly,  without  effort. 

CXXIV.  Interrogation  we  consider  next.  It  is  one 
of  those  rhetorical  forms  that  is  of  the  highest  virtue 
and  of  wonderful  variety,  and  which  admirably  suits 
the  impassioned  orator;  our  Demosthenes  employs  it 
perpetually — often  a  number  of  them  together ;  and  so  do 
Paul  and  the  Master.  It  reminds  us  at  times  of  some 
sudden  turn,  some  muscular  grasp  and  crush  of  a  mighty 
wrestler  in  the  wrestling-ring ;  but  on  the  lips  of  Him 
who  died  for  us  its  aim  is  higher,  and  is  intensely  char- 
acteristic of  Christianity.  The  fact  to  which  we  refer 
has  never  been  named  before :  Christ's  favorite  figures 
are  Implication  and  Interrogation !  Ponder  what  lies  in 
this  matter.  The  very  soul  of  Christianity  is  in  this. 
When  you  put  a  thing  to  a  man's  own  sense  of  right  and 
wrong ;  when  by  a  question  you  call  forth  the  man  and 
make  him  judge,  you  take  for  granted  that,  fallen  though 


366          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

he  be,  there  are  yet  invaluable  germs  of  truth,  sound 
judgment,  and  right  conscience  within  him.  Our  Lord, 
therefore,  in  effect  says  so,  when  He  uses  interrogation 
and  implication  so  very  often.  Not  false  and  despot- 
ic He,  anathematizer  of  private  judgment ;  His  every 
question  calls  on  private  judgment  to  put  forth  all  its 
energies.  No  despiser  He  of  man.  He  as  much  as 
cries : 

In  man  linger  rays  of  God;  in  him  broken  fragments  of 
the  divine ;  ruinously  clouded  he,  yet  capable  of  glorious  new 
birth.  I  will  build  him  again,  very  mainly,  by  calling  himself 
forth  ;  by  setting  his  own  feelings  and  faculties  into  intensest 
action.  Private  Judgment,  if  but  I  can  get  thee  to  act  fairly, 
thou  art  one  of  my  chief  allies. 

Assuredly  a  new  view.  Is  it  not  valuable  and  incontro- 
vertible? To  employ  implied  metaphors  and  similes,  as 
He  did  continually,  was  to  call  on  man  to  summon  him- 
self into  judgment ;  to  lighten  up  in  flames  man's  own 
breast,  as  his  own  Sinai  and  awful  bar  of  doom.  O  man, 
summon  thyself  before  thyself! 

When  George  Whitefield,  whose  printed  sermons  give 
no  suitable  idea  of  his  matchless  power  as  an  orator, 
preached  to  the  sailors  of  New  York,  he  thus  address- 
ed them  ;  the  Long-boat  he  referred  to  meaning  the 
Saviour: 

"  Well,  my  boys,  we  have  a  clear  sky  and  are  making  fine 
headway,  over  a  smooth  sea,  before  a  light  breeze;  and  we 
shall  soon  lose  sight  of  the  land.  But  what  means  this  sudden 
lowering  of  the  heavens?  Hark!  Don't  you  hear  distant 
thunder?  Don't  you  see  those  flashes  of  lightning?  There  is 
a  storm  gathering !  Every  man  to  his  duty !  Now  the  waves 
rise  and  clash  against  the  ship.  The  air  is  dark ;  the  tempest 
rages  !  Our  masts  are  gone  !  The  ship  is  on  her  beam-ends  ! 
—What  next  ?" 

At  this  impassioned  interrogation  the  seamen  were  com- 
pletely carried  away  by  the  sublime  acting  of  the  mod- 


Figiires  of  Rhetoric.  367 

ern  apostle ;  and,  imagining  themselves  in  the  very  rage 
of  the  tempest,  they  rose  in  a  body,  shouting :  "  Take  to 
the  Long-boat !" 

Dr.  Thomas  Burnet  has  in  his  "  Sacred  Theory  of  the 
Universe  "  a  passage  or  two  of  high  eloquence ;  as  that 
on  the  final  conflagration  of  the  earth,  quoted  in  the 
Spectator,  No.  146: 

"  Where  are  now  the  great  empires  of  the  world  and  their 
imperial  cities  ?  their  pillars  and  monuments  of  glory  ?  Show 
me  where  they  stood ;  read  the  inscription ;  tell  me  the  victor's 
name !" 

Matt,  xi.,  7 ;  xvii.,  17.  Judges  v.,  28.  Gen.xii.,  18.  Psa. 
Ixxvii.,  7.  I  Sam.  ii.,  27.  Job  x.,  3-6.  Mark  ii.,  9,  19,  25  ; 
iii.,  4,  23,  33.  Nothing  will  more  convince  you  that  there 
is  no  figure  of  higher  importance  than  interrogation  better 
than  the  following  from  Rev.  J.  C.  Ryle's  pamphlet,  his 
priceless  pamphlet  on  "  Prayer."  A  young  pastor,  feeling 
keenly  his  want  of  experience,  could  not  do  better  than 
buy  ten  dollars'  worth  of  this  pamphlet  and  circulate 
them  among  his  people.  The  following  is  the  commence- 
ment :  "  I  have  a  question  to  offer  you.  It  is  contained 
in  three  words,  Do  you  pray?" 

"  The  question  is  one  that  none  but  you  can  answer.  Whether 
you  attend  public  worship  or  not,  your  minister  knows.  Wheth- 
er you  have  family  prayers  in  your  house  or  not  your  relations 
know.  But  whether  you  pray  in  private  or  not  is  a  matter  be- 
tween yourself  and  God." 

Of  vast  moment  is  it  to  secure  in  a  sermon  the  hearer's 
attention  as  soon  as  ever  you  can ;  and  there  is  no  more 
successful  way  than  by  taking  Ryle's  plan — of  commenc- 
ing your  sermon  by  putting  a  question — a  question  that 
can  not  be  parried,  and  that  transpierces  your  hearer's 
very  heart  with  the  very  subject  on  which  you  are  preach- 
ing. Which  may  well  convince  you  that  figures  of  speech 
are  weapons  of  oratory  and  of  doom. 


368          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

We  quote  next  from  lines  of  great  finish  and  original- 
ity, written  in  the  church-yard  of  Richmond,  Yorkshire, 
England,  by  Herbert  Knowles,  an  orphan  boy  of  the 
lowest  station,  who  died  in  his  igth  year,  cut  off  in  his 
youth,  like  Henry  Kirke  White  : 

"  Methinks  it  is  good  to  be  here ; 

If  thou  wilt,  let  us  build !     But  for  whom  ? 
Nor  Elias  nor  Moses  appear; 

But  the  shadows  of  eve,  that  encompass  with  gloom 
The  abode  of  the  dead  and  the  place  of  the  tomb  ! 

"  Shall  we  build  to  Ambition  ?     Ah  no  ! 

Affrighted,  he  shrinketh  away; 
For  see,  they  would  pin  him  below, 
In  a  dark,  narrow  cave,  and  begirt  with  cold  clay, 
To  the  meanest  of  reptiles  a  peer  and  a  prey. 

"  To  Beauty  ?     Ah  no  !     She  forgets 

The  charms  which  she  wielded  before; 
Nor  knows  the  foul  worm  that  he  frets 
The  skin  that  but  yesterday  fools  could  adore 
For  the  smoothness  it  held  or  the  tint  which  it  wore." 

The  novel  of  Goethe,  the  great  German,  his  "  Wilhelm 
Meister's  Apprenticeship,"  is  well  known  through  good 
English  translations ;  a  book  containing  a  singular  mixt- 
ure of  the  finest  genius  and  the  weakest  trash.  Mig- 
non  is  a  young  girl  of  a  noble  family,  stolen  in  childhood 
from  her  magnificent  home ;  exposed  to  severe  fortunes, 
yet  still  haunted  by  a  dim  recollection  of  the  splendors 
that  shone  around  her  infancy.  She  is  supposed  to  have 
been  the  original  of  Scott's  Finella,  in  "  Peveril  of  the 
.Peak;"  and  Byron  has  written  an  imitation  of  her  song 
in  his  "  Bride  of  Abydos."  Here  is  part  of  Mignon's 
song: 

"  Know'st  thou  the  land  where  the  lemon-trees  bloom  ? 
Where  the  gold  orange  glows  in  the  deep  thicket's  gloom  ? 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  369 

Where  a  wind  ever  soft  from  the  blue  heaven  blows, 
And  the  groves  are  of  laurel,  and  myrtle,  and  rose  ? 

Know'st  thou  it  ?     Thither,  O  thither, 
My  dearest  and  kindest,  with  thee  would  I  go." 

The  following  much-admired  paraphrase  of  the  Greek 
poet,  Alcaeus,  is  from  the  learned  pen  of  Sir  William 
Jones,  the  eminent  Oriental  scholar;  who  begins  with 
interrogation : 

"  What  constitutes  a  state  ? 
Not  high-raised  battlement  or  labored  mound, 
Thick  wall,  or  moated  gate." 

When  this  figure  is  employed  simply  to  affirm  or  deny 
more  strongly  they  call  it  Erotesis ;  but  far  beyond  that 
it  goes.  Since  it  speaks  the  soul  of  passion,  what  scene 
can  better  suit  it  than  a  great  fire?  A  mother  rushes 
with  her  babe  in  her  arms  to  a  window  in  a  doomed 
dwelling.  She  must  be  rescued — as  Eliza  Cook  tells  us, 

"  Save  !  O  save  !  the  people  cry. 

But  who  plucks  the  human  brand  ? 
Who  will  do  the  deed  or  die  ? 
'Tis  a  fireman  of  the  land  !" 

Erotesis  does  Dr.  Charles  Mackay  turn  to  good  use: 

"  Tell  me,  my  secret  soul, 

O  tell  me,  Hope  and  Faith, 
Is  there  no  resting-place 

From  sorrow,  sin,  and  death  ? 
Is  there  no  happy  spot 

Where  mortals  may  be  blest? 
Where  grief  may  find  a  balm, 

And  weariness  a  rest  ? 

Faith,  Hope,  and  Love,  best  boons  to  mortals  given, 
Wav'd  their  bright  wings  and  whisper'd, '  Yes,  in  heaven.' " 

With  reference  to  the  strut  with  which  some  men  of 
science  walk  in  our  day,  Albert  Barnes,  in  his  valuable 

AA 


370          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


"  Lectures  on  the  Evidences  of  Christianity  in  the  Nine- 
teenth Century,"  refers  to  Whewell's  admirable  "  His- 
tory of  the  Inductive  Sciences,"  and  observes  that  one 
rises  from  the  perusal  of  that  work  more  disposed  to 
liken  the  sciences  that  have  actually  been  on  the  earth 
to  the  sands  on  the  shore  than  to  the  fixed  and  everlast- 
ing hills.  He  then  remarks  on  the  great  amount  of  un- 
certainty that  is  mixed  up  with  modern  science,  and 
hastens  into  a  series  of  questions : 

"  On  what  points,  outside  of  the  small  circle  of  the  mathe- 
matical demonstrations,  is  science  certain?  What  is  light? 
What  is  matter  ?  What  is  galvanism  ?  What  is  gravitation  ? 
What  is  heat  ?  What  is  life  ?  How  many  are  the  original  ele- 
ments of  matter  ?  In  what  proportions  do  they  combine  ?  and 
by  what  power  are  they  held  in  combination  ?  How  many  are 
the  worlds  that  roll  above  us  ?  What  is  the  duration  of  our 
own  globe  ?  On  the  one  subject  of  geology,  so  eafly  as  the 
year  1806  the  French  Institute  counted  more  than  eighty  the- 
ories hostile  to  Scripture  history,  not  one  of  which  has  stood  to 
the  present  day.  How  many  such  theories  have  appeared  and 
vanished  since  ?" 

From  good  St.  Bernard,  the  herald  of  the  second  cru- 
sade, take  an  example  of  erotesis : 

"  It  is  ignorance  of  God  which  produces  despair.  I  assert 
that  all  who  are  unwilling  to  turn  to  God  are  ignorant  of  Him. 
They  refuse,  because  they  imagine  Him  austere,  who  is  gentle; 
terrible,  who  is  altogether  lovely.  Thus  iniquity  lies  to  itself, 
framing  to  itself  an  idol.  What  fear  ye  ?  That  He  will  not 
forgive  your  sins  ?  But  he  hath  nailed  them  to  the  Cross  with 
his  own  hands.  That  ye  are  tied  with  the  chain  of  evil  habits  ? 
But  he  looseth  them  that  are  bound.  What  more  would  ye 
have  ?  What  hinders  you  from  salvation  ?  This— that  ye  are 
ignorant  of  God !" 

From  one  of  our  oldest  writers,  John  Lydgate,  let  us 
select ;  showing  how  aptly  interrogation  closes  a  topic. 
He  is  speaking  of  an  infant : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  371 

rt  Ah,  well  a  day,  most  angel-like  of  face, 
A  childe,  young,  in  his  pure  innocence ; 
Tender  of  limbs,  God  wote  full  guiltiless, 
The  goodly  fair  that  lieth  here  speechlesse, 
A  mouth  he  hath,  but  wordes  hath  he  none; 
Can  not  complain,  alas  !  for  none  outrage  ; 
He  grutcheth  not,  but  lies  here  all  alone, 
Still  as  a  lambe,  most  meke  of  his  visage. 
What  heart  of  steele  could  do  him  damage? 
Or  suffer  him  die,  beholding  the  manere 
And  look  benign  of  his  twin  eyen  clere." 

Turning  to  the  rich  literature  of  Italy,  we  quote  Mac- 
chiavelli's  prediction  of  a  Garibaldi,  in  his  renowned  "  II 
Principe,"  chap.  xxvi.  Mark  the  various  figures  here  : 

"  I  can  not  express  with  what  love  he  would  be  received  in 
all  the  provinces  which  have  suffered  from  these  foreign  inun- 
dations; with  what  a  thirst  for  vengeance,  with  what  steadfast 
fidelity,  with  what  affection,  with  what  tears !  What  gates 
would  close  themselves  against  him  ?  What  people  would  re- 
fuse him  their  obedience?  What  envy  would  oppose  itself  to 
him  ?  What  Italian  would  deny  him  homage  ?" 

Study  next  the  very  celebrated  sonnet  of  Blanco 
White,  wonderful  in  itself,  and  more  so  as  written  by  a 
native  of  Spain : 

"  Mysterious  Night !  When  our  first  parent  knew 
Thee  from  report  divine,  and  heard  thy  name, 
Did  he  not  tremble  for  this  lovely  frame, 

This  glorious  canopy  of  light  and  blue  ? 

Yet  'neath  a  curtain  of  translucent  dew, 

Bathed  in  the  rays  of  the  great  setting  flame, 
Hesperus  with  the  host  of  heaven  came, 

And  lo  !  creation  widen'd  in  man's  view. 

Who  could  have  thought  such  darkness  lay  conceal'd 
Within  thy  beams,  O  Sun  ?     Or  who  could  find, 

Whilst  fruit,  and  leaf,  and  insect  stood  reveal'd, 
That  to  such  countless  orbs  thou  mad'st  us  blind  ? 

Why  do  we,  then,  shun  Death  with  anxious  strife  ? 

If  Light  conceals  so  much,  wherefore  not  Life  ?" 


372          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Let  Sir  Edward  Lytton  Bulwer,  Lord  Lytton,  in  his 
admirable  papers  on  "  Life,  Literature,  and  Manners,"  in 
Blackwood,  conclude  for  us  our  discussion  of  this  figure : 

"Elaborate  though  Cicero's  orations  are,  they  are  markedly 
distinct  in  style  from  his  philosophical  prelections.  The  essay- 
ist quietly  affirms  a  proposition ;  the  orator  vehemently  asks  a 
question.  '  You  say  so  and  so,'  observes  the  essayist,  about 
to  refute  an  opponent.  *  Do  you  mean  to  tell  us  so  and  so  ?' 
demands  the  impassioned  orator.  The  writer  asserts  that  '  the 
excesses  of  Catiline  became  at  last  insupportable  even  to  the 
patience  of  the  senate.'  '  How  long  will  you  yet  abuse  our  pa- 
tience, Catiline  ?'  exclaims  the  orator;  and  an  orator  who  could 
venture  to  commence  an  exordium  with  a  burst  so  audaciously 
abrupt  needs  no  other  proof  to  convince  a  practiced  public 
speaker  how  absolute  must  have  been  his  command  over  his 
audience.  What  sympathy  in  them,  and  what  discipline  of 
voice,  manner,  countenance  in  himself,  were  essential  for  the 
successful  license  of  so  fiery  a  burst  into  the  solemnity  of  form- 
al impeachment !" 

We  give  but  one  additional  quotation,  from  William 
Lillo,  the  author  of  "  Fatal  Curiosity  " — an  original  gen- 
ius, mighty  in  English.  He  introduces  a  person  who  is 
gloating  over  money  belonging  to  another : 

"  'Tis  here — 'tis  mine — I  have  it  in  possession  ! 
Must  I  resign  it  ? — must  I  give  it  back  ? 
Am  I  in  love  with  misery  and  want, 
To  rob  myself  and  court  so  vast  a  loss  ? 
Retain  it,  then  !     But  how?     There  is  a  way ! 
Why  sinks  my  heart  ?     Why  does  my  blood  run  cold  ? 
Why  am  I  thrill'd  with  horror?" 

No  one  feels  these  seven  thick-coming  interrogatives  as 
being  too  numerous. 

CXXV.  Question  and  Answer — Responsion  or  Re- 
sponding ;  is  an  important  twofold  figure  for  purposes 
oratorical.  Jesus,  whose  view  was  that  man's  own  con- 
science is  man's  judgment-throne,  was  habitually  putting 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  373 

question  and  answer.  We  continually  find  a  writer  in- 
troducing a  query,  which  he  himself  immediately  replies 
to.  Nothing  can  be  more  natural.  Take  a  memorable 
instance  from  Sterne's  inimitable  story  of  Le  Fevre. 
"  My  Uncle  Toby  "  is  offering  to  the  dying  lieutenant, 
Le  Fevre,  a  home  under  his  roof: 

"  Before  my  Uncle  Toby  had  half  finished  the  kind  offers  he 
was  making  to  the  father,  had  the  son  insensibly  pressed  up 
close  to  his  knees,  and  had  taken  hold  of  the  breast  of  his  coat, 
and  was  pulling  it  toward  him.  His  vital  spirits,  which  were 
waxing  cold  and  slow  within  him,  and  were  retreating  to  the 
last  citadel,  the  heart,  rallied  back;  the  film  forsook  his  eyes 
for  a  moment;  he  looked  up  wishfully  in  my  Uncle  Toby's  face, 
and  then  cast  his  look  upon  his  boy;  and  that  ligament,  fine  as 
it  was,  never  was  broken.  Nature  instantly  ebbed  again ;  the 
film  returned  to  its  place;  the  pulse  fluttered — stopped — went 
on — throbbed — stopped  again — moved — stopped.  Shall  I  go 
on  ?  No  1" 

In  Scott's  "  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  which  every 
one  should  read,  we  find  an  example  at  the  close  of  the 
poem  ;  the  author  replies  to  his  own  query.  Such  is  the 
twofold  figure : 

"  Hush'd  is  the  harp — the  Minstrel  gone  ! 
And  did  he  wander  forth  alone  ? 
Alone  in  indigence  and  age, 
To  linger  out  his  pilgrimage  ? 
No;  close  beneath  proud  Newark's  tower 
Arose  the  Minstrel's  lowly  bovver. 
There  would  he  sing  achievements  high, 
And  circumstance  of  chivalry. 
And  noble  youths  the  strain  to  hear 
Forsook  the  hunting  of  the  deer; 
And  Yarrow,  as  he  rolPd  along, 
Bore  burden  to  the  Minstrel's  song." 

The  twofold  method  of  question  and  answer  is  ever 
occurring  in  the  speeches  of  Mr.  Fox,  as  thus : 


374          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  But,  sir,  the  high  sheriff  was  threatened — and  how  ?  Was 
it  by  threats  of  assaulting  him  ?  No.  Was  it  by  holding  up 
the  fear  of  danger  to  him  by  mobs  or  riots  ?  No.  Was  it  by 
a  menace  of  taking  away  his  books,  breaking  the  peace  of  the 
hustings,  and  interrupting  him  in  the  discharge  of  his  duty  ? 
No,  no ;  but  it  was  by  warning  him  of  the  consequences  of  un- 
just partialities,  false  or  corrupt  decisions." 

CXXVI.  Exclamation,  Ecphonesis,  or,  CXXVIL,  Ep- 
iphonema,  are  of  very  frequent  occurrence.  Under  this 
may  be  ranged  very  minute  points  in  style,  such  as  the 
throwing  in  of  terms  like  "  quotha,"  "  on  my  word,"  "  to 
be  sure,"  "  I  tell  you,"  "  my  life  on  it,"  "  forsooth." 
Only  let  every  thing  vulgar  be  avoided.  But  this  figure 
goes  greatly  beyond  this.  Alexander  Wilson,  author  of 
"American  Ornithology,"  in  eight  volumes,  a  work  of 
great  value,  supplies  in  his  "  Watty  and  Meg"  an  ani- 
mated specimen  of  oratory  in  the  scolding  way.  Maggy 
surprises  her  worse  half  in  the  village  ale-house;  she 
thus  harangues: 

"Nasty,  gude  for  naething  being; 

O  ye  snuffy,  drucken  sow  ! 
Bringing  wife  and  weans  to  ruin, 

Drinkin'  here  wi'  sic  a  crew ! 
Rise  !  ye  drucken  beast  o'  Bethel! 

Drink's  your  night  and  day's  desire. 
Rise  !  this  precious  hour;  or  faith  I'll 

Fling  your  whisky  in  the  fire  ! 
Ye'll  sit  wi'  your  limmers  round  ye ; 

Hang  you,  sir,  I'll  be  your  death ! 
Little  hauds  my  hands,  confound  ye, 

But  I'll  cleave  ye  to  the  teeth." 

The  difference  in  words  between  an  exclamatory  way 
of  statement  and  simple  narrative  may  often  be  slight, 
yet  the  effect  is  very  perceptible ;  as  if  Grahame,  in  his 
excellent  poem,  "  The  Sabbath,"  had  written : 

"  Still  is  the  morning  of  the  hallowed  day," 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  375 

instead  of  writing  as  he  has  done,  in  a  way  much  more 
animated : 

"  How  still  the  morning  of  the  hallowed  day !" 

Nothing  in  all  literature  is  more  celebrated  than  the 
morsel  of  the  Greek  poetess  Sappho,  on  the  sweetness 
of  the  "  Evening  Hour."  Only  a  few  lines  have  re- 
mained of  hers  altogether;  judging  from  them,  she  seems 
to  deserve  her  rank  as  the  greatest  of  all  ancient  female 
poets,  "  the  tenth  Muse."  Byron  thus  paraphrases  her 
words : 

"  O  Hesperus,  thou  bringest  all  good  things ! 

Home  to  the  weary;  to  the  hungry  cheer. 
To  the  young  bird  the  parent's  brooding  wings; 

The  welcome  stall  to  the  o'erlabored  steer. 
Whate'er  of  peace  about  our  hearthstone  clings ; 

Whatever  our  household  gods  protect  of  dear, 
Are  gather'd  round  us  by  the  look  of  rest; 

Thou  bring'st  the  child-,  too,  to  the  mother's  breast." 

In  the  following  passages  Pope  shows  the  ruling  pas- 
sion in  death : 


a  ', 


Odious  !    In  woolen  !     'Twould  a  saint  provoke  !' 
Were  the  last  words  that  poor  Narcissa  spoke. 
'  No,  let  a  charming  chintz  and  Brussels  lace 
Wrap  my  cold  limbs,  and  shade  my  lifeless  face. 
One  would  not,  sure,  be  frightful  when  one's  dead; 
And,  Betty,  give  this  cheek  a  little  red.' " 

" '  I  give  and  I  devise,'  old  Euclio  said 
And  sigh'd,  'my  lands  and  tenements  to  Ned.' — 
'  Your  money,  sir  ?' — *  My  money,  sir  ?     What !  all  ? 
Why,  if  I  must  (then  wept), '  I  give  to  Paul — ' 
'  The  manor,  sir  ?'— *  The  manor  ?     Hold  !'  he  cried; 
'  Not  that — I  can  not  part  with  that !'  and  died." 

Your  author  ventures : 


376         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

What  strange,  wild  lure  oft  the  Forbidden  hath, 
Whereto  the  joys  of  duty  seem  but  tame  ! 

As  sea  boy  who  prefers  grim  Ocean's  wrath 

To  the  hush'd  wood-side  cottage  whence  he  came  ; 

The  spray-swept  deck ;  the  wave  with  crest  of  foam, 
To  all  the  calm  of  home. 

CXXVIII.  Nomination  is  the  title  we  presume  to  give 
to  that  figure  which  consists  in  the  enumeration  of  the 
names  of  specific  places — Proper  Names,  in  which  is  often 
a  strange  charm ;  a  witching,  noble  music  and  suggest- 
ive power.  We  feel  this  charm  in  good  Bishop  Heber's 
lines  to  his  wife : 

"  If  thou  wert  by  my  side,  my  love, 

How  fast  would  evening  fall, 
In  green  Bengala's  palmy  grove, 

Listening  the  nightingale. 
Then  on  !  then  on  !     Where  duty  leads 

My  course  be  onward  still ; 
On  broad  Hindostan's  sultry  meads, 

Or  bleak  Almorah's  hill." 

You  will  find  very  many  and  admirable  instances  in  the 
Scriptures:  see  Solomon's  Song  iv.,  8  ;  vi.,4;  Isa.  xvi.,  9; 
xxxiii.,  9;  xxxiv.,6;  Ixii.,  4;  Ixvi.,  19. 

It  sometimes  happens  also  that  the  mere  name  of  a 
place  may  be  the  very  climax  of  the  ludicrous.  Many 
years  ago,  a  preacher  in  Newburyport,  whose  warm  im- 
agination drank  in  the  nautical  beauties  of  the  locality, 
was  descanting  before  a  large  audience  upon  the  perils 
of  unrepentant  sinners  as  they  drifted  down  the  stream 
of  time.  He  compared  them  to  a  tempest-tossed  bark, 
bowing  under  the  hurricane,  every  bit  of  canvas  torn 
from  its  spars,  and  driving  furiously  upon  adjacent  break- 
ers. At  the  climax  of  his  skillfully  elaborated  metaphor, 
the  minister  shouted, 

"  And  how,  O  how  shall  the  poor  mariner  be  saved  ?" 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  377 

An  old  salt  in  the  gallery,  with  his  whole  soul  absorbed 
in  the  scene,  sprang  to  his  feet  and  screamed, 

"Let  him  put  his  helm  hard  down,  and  bear  away  for 
Squam." 

Milton's  very  lists  of  names  are  assonant  with  the  no- 
blest music,  as  in  P.  L.,  i.,  396-411.  Or  as  thus — mark 
the  end-cuts : 

%  "  And  what  resounds 

In  fable  or  romance  of  Uther's  sons, 

Begirt  with  British  and  Armoric  knights ; 

And  all  who  since,  baptized  or  infidel, 

Jousted  at  Aspramont  or  Montalban, 

Damasco  or  Morocc'  or  Trebizond; 

Or  whom  Biserta  sent  from  Afric  shore, 

When  Charlemain  and  all  his  peerage  fell 

By  Fontarabia." 


378          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 

9 

PART    FOURTEENTH. 

• 

Technicality. — Indication.  —  Vision. — Hypotyposis>  or  Vis- 
ible Presentation. — Present  Occurrence. — Hearing. — Mo- 
tion^ — Climax,  or  Ladder. — Increment. — Amplification. 
— Epiploce. — Anticlimax. — Less  to  Greater. — Greater  to 
Less. 

CXXIX.  THIS  chapter  begins  with  a  figure  very  brief- 
ly discussed — Technicality;  yet  by  no  means  unimpor- 
tant. Such  as  are  of  a  nautical  sort  are  often  used. 
Only  do  not  take  us  land-lubbers  too  far  to  sea.  "  The 
Storm,"  by  G.  A.  Stevens,  is  spirited ;  but  is  somewhat 
enigmatical : 

"Fore  and  aft  the  sprit-sail  yard  get; 

Reef  the  mizzen,  see  all  clear; 
Hands  up  !     Each  preventive  brace  set ! 
Man  the  fore-yard;  cheer,  lads,  cheer !" 

CXXX.  Indication  well  deserves  a  place.  It  is  of 
very  great  value ;  of  frequent  occurrence  in  oratory,  the 
subject  discoursed  of  being  pointed  out  by  the  finger  of 
the  speaker;  as  when  the  pulpit  orator  exclaims:  "He 
hath  gone  to  yonder  heavens !"  "  There  sits  the  breaker 
of  the  law."  "  On  this  side  stand  the  sheep ;  on  that 
the  goats."  A  figure,  life-like ;  making  us  feel  that  the 
speaker  is  really  addressing  us  at  the  moment ;  not  dis- 
cussing a  subject,  essay-wise,  in  his  study.  The  beauty 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  379 

and  importance  of  this  figure  is  well  shown  in  the  Rev. 
Charles  Wolfe's  lines  "  To  Mary,"  in  her  death : 

"  If  thou  wouldst  stay,  even  as  thou  art, 

All  cold  and  all  serene, 
I  still  might  press  thy  silent  heart, 

And  where  thy  smiles  have  been ! 
While  e'en  thy  chill,  bleak  corpse  I  have, 

Thou  seemest  still  mine  own ; 
But  there — I  lay  thee  in  thy  grave, 

And  I  am  now  alone." 

Turn  to  any  faithful  translation  of  the  Hebrew  of  the 
Old  Testament;  such  versions  are  abundant  enough  to 
make  this  branch  of  reading  a  field  of  study  in  rhetoric 
that  will  prove  original;  fresh  as  May-day  in  a  mount- 
ain glen,  and  of  wondrous  variety.  Open  the  Scripture 
at  Psalm  Ixviii. : 

"The  earth  shook,  this  Sinai,  at  the  presence  of  God." 

Mark  how  the  style  thrills  at  the  expression  "  This 
Sinai."  Alexander's  "  Isaiah"  and  his  "Psalms"  offer 
you  vast  advantages,  of  which  few  avail  themselves,  to 
invigorate  your  English  style ;  as  if  by  a  climb  up  the 
Catskills,  or  by  a  walk  on  the  beach  when  the  gale  is  out 
and  the  sea  is  open. 

It  is  told  of  Larned,  a  youthful  American  preacher  of 
great  promise,  who  died  in  New  Orleans  at  an  early  age, 
that  in  Garden  Street  Church,  in  his  second  sermon  in 
New  York,  when  speaking  of  the  crucifixion,  he  turned 
round  toward  the  back  of  the  pulpit,  and  sketched  on  it 
with  his  finger  an  imaginary  cross,  with  its  nails  and  its 
crown  of  thorns.  This  daring  piece  of  rhetorical  action, 
which  would  have  made  some  men  ridiculous,  he  carried 
through  with  great  and  solemnizing  effect.  Let  all  the 
modes  of  effort  be  familiar  to  you ;  use  them  as  often  as 
honesty  and  tact  guide  you ;  weak  and  shameful  to  be 
ignorant  of  them.  When  Jesus  said,  "  Behold  the  lilies," 


380          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

did  He  not  point  to  them  ?  When  He  cried,  "  In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions,"  pointed  He  not  to 
the  starry  hosts  ?  Matt,  iii.,  9  ;  xii.,  49. 

A  certain  touch  of  effrontery,  of  challenge  and  defiance, 
is  sometimes  conveyed  by  the  word  "  there ;"  as  when 
holy  George  Herbert  says  to  Conscience : 

"  Call  in  thy  death's  head,  there  !     Tie  up  thy  fears." 

It  is  in  the  use  of  this  figure,  too,  that  we  fancy  Henry 
Vaughan  pointing  upward  when  he  places  us  on  the 
Mount  of  Faith : 

"  From  whence  the  enlightened  spirit  sees 
That  shady  City  of  palm-trees." 

CXXXI.  Vision  we  are  led  to  next ;  by  which  an  ob- 
ject is  spoken  of  as  actually  seen  at  the  time,  though  it 
be  absent.  This  figure,  closely  allied  to  indication,  shows 
strongly  the  power  of  deep  feeling  over  the  mind  in 
bringing  a  thing  before  us,  how  far  soever  removed  it 
may  be  by  distance  of  place  or  time,  or  by  barriers  of 
the  grave.  It  can  thus  restore  to  us  the  absent  or  the 
dead ;  the  scenes  of  boyhood ;  of  the  village  or  the 
clachan ;  though  the  ocean  may  flow  between  us  and 
them,  and  we  shall  never  see  them  more  with  the  bodily 
eye ;  or  old  friends  with  whom  no  more  we  shall  take 
council ;  or  perhaps  those  whom  we  have  wronged,  and 
who  have  passed  away  where  reparation  can  not  be  made 
to  them.  A  power  of  the  mind,  to  the  good  a  source 
of  bliss  ;  to  the  bad  a  source  of  hell — of  a  hundred  hells. 
The  Bible  abounds  in  sublime  examples,  as  when  John 
exclaims  in  the  unsurpassable  Revelation — v.,  6 ;  vii.,  9  ; 
x.,  i.  Tameness  in  the  modern  pulpit, how  inexcusable! 
Go  to  the  pages  of  Giles  Fletcher,  to  his  "  Christ's  Vic- 
tory," in  which  is  here  and  there  an  exquisite  stanza. 
The  close  of  our  Saviour's  temptation  is  thus  descanted 
on: 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  381 

"The  birds'  sweet  notes,  to  sonnet  out  their  joys, 

Attempered  to  the  lays  angelical ; 
And  to  the  birds  the  winds  attune  their  voice ; 
And  to  the  winds  the  waters  hoarsely  call ; 
And  echo  back  again  revoiced  all, 

That  the  whole  valley  rung  with  victory. 
But  now  our  Lord  to  rest  doth  homeward  fly, 
See  how  the  Night  comes  stealing,  from  the  mountains  high  !" 

It  is  with  this,  as  with  all  powerful  usages  of  language, 
bombast  is  much  tempted  to  abuse  vision  to  its  own  ab- 
surd purposes ;  as  in  the  dramatist  Congreve's  "  Ode  " 
on  the  singing  of  Mrs.  Arabella  Hunt : 

"  And  lo  !  Silence  himself  is  here  ! 
Methinks  I  see  the  midnight  god  appear, 
In  all  his  downy  pomp  arrayed ! 
Behold  the  venerable  Shade  ! 
An  ancient  sigh  he  sits  upon, 
Whose  memory  of  sound  is  long  since  gone, 
And  purposely  annihilated  for  his  throne." 

This  stupendous  operation  of  sitting  on  an  ancient  sigh, 
as  if  it  were  a  three-legged  stool,  reminds  one  of  the 
question  so  much  debated  among  the  learned  monks  of 
the  Middle  Ages,  "  How  many  angels  could  dance,  at  one 
and  the  same  time,  on  the  point  of  a  needle  ?" 

From  the  interesting  life  of  Dr.  Archibald  Alexander, 
by  his  son,  we  take  the  following  account  of  an  "  Action 
Sermon  " — that  is,  a  sermon  before  the  communion : 

"As  he  passed  from  the  description  of  the  Jewish  passover 
to  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  he  said,  bending  forward  and  looking 
intently  on  the  communion-table  spread  before  him,  where  the 
bread  and  wine  lay  covered, '  But  where  is  our  Lamb  ?'  At 
these  words,  so  impressively  uttered,  and  accompanied  by  a 
gesture  so  significant,  an  old  French  dancing  -  master,  who 
scarcely  ever  entered  the  church,  rose  from  his  seat  near  the 
pulpit,  and  gazed  intently,  to  see  if  there  were  not  something  on 
the  communion-table  which  he  had  not  yet  seen.  An  intelli- 


382          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

gent  little  girl,  who  sat  before  him,  after  she  returned  home, 

said:  'Aunt  H ,did  you  ever  hear  such  a  man?    When  he 

said,  "  Where  is  our  Lamb  ?"  he  seemed  as  if  he  was  looking 
for  a  lamb  on  the  communion-table.' " 

Take  we  our  next  quotation  from  the  eloquent  pen 
of  Mr.  Everett,  whose  orations  and  addresses  need  no 
recommendation : 

"  Methinks  I  see  it  now — that  one  solitary,  adventurous  ves- 
sel, the  Mayflower  of  a  forlorn  hope,  freighted  with  the  pros- 
pects of  a  future  state,  and  bound  across  the  unknown  sea.  I 
behold  it  pursuing  with  a  thousand  misgivings  the  uncertain, 
the  tedious  voyage.  I  see  them  now,  scantily  supplied  with 
provisions ;  crowded  almost  to  suffocation  in  their  ill-stored 
prison;  delayed  by  calms;  pursuing  a  circuitous  route.  The 
awful  voice  of  the  storm  howls  through  the  rigging;  the  labor- 
ing masts  seem  straining  from  their  base;  the  dismal  sound  of 
the  pumps  is  heard ;  the  ship  leaps,  as  it  were  madly,  from  bil- 
low to  billow;  the  ocean  breaks  and  settles  with  ingulfing 
floods  over  the  floating  deck,  and  beats  with  deadening,  shiver- 
ing weight  against  the  staggering  vessel." 

Alexander  Montgomery,  an  old  Scottish  poet,  in  a  very 
spirited  piece,  has  this : 

"  I  see  the  flags  flowing 
The  warriors  all  glowing, 
And  snorting  and  blowing 

The  steeds  rushing  on. 
The  lances  are  crashing, 
Out  broad  blades  come  flashing; 
Mid  shouting  and  dashing 

The  night  is  nigh  gone." 

Be  it  remarked,  at  this  point,  that  nothing  whatever 
is  more  propitious  to  oratory  than  the  habit  of  writing 
as  if  your  audience  were  before  you  in  your  study.  Dr. 
Thomas  Guthrie,  of  Edinburgh,  was  eminent  for  this  in- 
valuable power  of  writing  as  if  speaking,  and  of  having 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  383 

this  presence  as  a  continual  stimulus  and  moulder  of 
thought  and  expression.  Thus  many  of  his  freshest, 
noblest  utterances,  which  sounded  as  the  suggestion  of 
the  moment,  were  really  prepared  in  the  study  and  com- 
mitted to  memory.  What  he  wrote  down  was  as  if  the 
subject  were  immediately  before  the  speaker's  eye.  He 
wrote,  too,  as  if  he  were  realizing  the  presence  of  a 
crowd  before  him.  Let  each  speaker  cultivate  this 
power. 

Blair,  in  his  standard  poem,  "  The  Grave,"  carries  you 
to  the  death-bed  of  the  saint : 

"The  last  end 

Of  the  good  man  is  peace  !     How  calm  his  exit ! 
Night-dews  fall  not  more  gently  to  the  ground, 
Nor  weary  worn-out  winds  expire  so  soft. 
Behold  him  !  in  the  evening  tide  of  life — 
A  life  well  spent,  whose  early  care  it  was 
His  riper  years  should  not  upbraid  his  green. 
By  unperceiv'd  degrees  he  wears  away ; 
Yet,  like  the  sun,  seems  larger  at  his  setting. 
High  in  his  faith  and  hope,  look  how  he  reaches 
After  the  prize  in  view." 

The  style  of  Blair  is  now  and  then  disfigured  by  a 
coarse  expression,  such  as  "  prodigious,"  "  clap,"  "  slim," 
"solder;"  or  as  thus: 

"A  victim  tumbled  flat  upon  its  back." 

CXXXII.  Hypotyposis,  or  Visible  Presentation,  is  near- 
ly allied  to  vision.  Visible  presentation  is  so  to  describe 
•an  object  as  to  make  it  visible  to  the  eye ;  it  seizes  on 
and  points  out  those  qualities  of  an  act  or  object  which 
we  would  see  prominent  if  the  act  were  done  before  us, 
or  if  we  were  gazing  at  the  object.  Quintilian  gives 
this  illustration  from  Cicero : 

"He  came  into  the  Senate-house;  his  eyes  gleamed  fire; 
from  his  whole  countenance  cruelty  was  flashing." 


384          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Well  it  suits  a  pulpit  speaker,  when  he  presents  a  Bible 
character  or  some  Church  worthy,  to  describe  the  linea- 
ments of  such  a  personage ;  as  when  we  are  enabled  to 
see  Elijah  up-soaring  to  heaven  ;  or  as  when  the  Baptist « 
head  is  lying  on  the  gory  charger ;  or  as  when  the  Wal- 
denses  were  sheltered  by  the  Alpine  cliffs  and  pines. 

CXXXIII.  Present  Occurrence  —  actual  presentation 
of  an  event  as  now  occurring — is  allied  to  vision,  yet 
may  easily  be  distinguished  from  it.  The  verbs  are 
used  in  the  present  tense :  incidents  rush  forth  into  ful- 
fillment;  it* is  no  longer  past  or  future,  but  is  all  the 
glowing  Now — we  who  hear  or  read  are  on  the  spot, 
are  made  witnesses  of  an  event  that  flashes  into  reality 
before  us.  Assuredly  a  noble  figure.  Listen,  as  De  la 
Rue  places  you  in  the  room  where  an  impenitent  world- 
ling, struggling  to  turn  to  God,  is  dying  sin-chained,  is 
dying  before  you : 

"Let  one  single  sin,  a  sin  of  habit,  a  sin  of  the  heart,  present 
itself  to  the  sinner's  mind,  to  his  feeble  imagination ;  let  the 
heart,  yet  more  feeble,  indulge  this  phantom  with  a  parley  but 
for  a  moment,  and  express  but  one  single  sentiment  of  regret. 
But  ah  !  he  abandons  himself — he  abandons  himself  to  return  to 
himself  no  more  !t  It  is  done  !  It  is  the  last  movement  of  that 
heart,  the  last  breath  of  life,  the  decisive  sigh  of  a  wretched 
eternity.  Ye  zealous  ministers!  Ye  sympathizing  friends! 
Pray,  weep,  bear  to  his  deaf  ears  the  name  of  the  Saviour ! 
Show  him  that  Saviour  on  the  cross !  Redouble  your  aspira- 
tions and  your  cries !  You  see  not  the  bottom  of  that  mind 
nor  of  that  heart.  God  sees  it.  God  condemns  it !  He  is 
dead  !  He  is  undone  !" 

S.,  "  Julius  Caesar,"  act  ii.,  scene  i.,  lines  108-1 18  ;  act  iii., 
scene  ii.,  lines  73-81.  How  natural  it  would  be  to  de- 
scribe the  death-scene  of  some  one  of  the  congregation, 
or  some  one  present,  led  astray  before  a  temptation. 

CXXXIV.  Hearing,  occurring  much  seldomer  than 
vision,  is  the  speaking  about  some  sound  as  though  the 
person  heard  it  at  the  moment  or  just  before.  We  take 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  385 

an  example  from  Blackwood's  Magazine,  No.  560,  of  Queen 
Victoria's  sudden  journey  to  Scotland  on  the  eve  of  the 
opening  of  the  second  great  exhibition,  in  May,  1862, 
soon  after  Prince  Albert's  death : 

"  Hush  !  Speak  low.  Last  night,  when  the  darkness  fell 
over  her  widow's  veil  and  her  tears,  have  not  you  heard  how 
she  went  away  softly  out  of  Windsor,  .maybe  to  cheat  her  heart 
with  the  silent  haste  of  her  journey,  and  blunt  the  keenness  of 
the  anguish  in  merciful  fatigue  and  weariness;  traveling  through 
all  the  dewy  night,  through  the  rich  midland  country,  by  the 
gray  Cumberland  hills,  mistress  of  all  the  wealth  and  all  the 
love  of  England ;  but  all  that  wealth  and  all  that  love  can  not 
buy  back  her  crown  of  joy." 

One  other  example  of  this  figure,  from  Byron's  Water- 
loo, in  his  "  Childe  Harold :" 

"  There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night, 
And  Belgium's  capital  had  gather'd  then 
Her  beaiity  and  her  chivalry,  and  bright 
The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men ; 
A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily;  and  when 
Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell, 
Soft  eyes  look'd  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again, 
And  all  went  merry  as  a  marriage-bell ; 
But  hush  !    Hark  !    A  deep  sound  strikes  like  a  rising  knell. 

"  Did  ye  not  hear  it  ?     No  !     'Twas  but  the  wind 
Or  the  car  rattling  o'er  the  stony  street ; 
On  with  the  dance  !     Let  joy  be  unconfined ; 
No  sleep  till  morn,  when  youth  and  pleasure  meet 
To  chase  the  glowing  hours  with  flying  feet. 
But  hark !     That  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more, 
As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat; 
And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before ; 
Arm  !  arm  !  it  is,  it  is  the  cannon's  opening  roar." 

We  have  recourse  next  to  the  great  Welsh  preacher, 
Christmas  Evans: 

BB 


386          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"Verily,  the  misery  of  man  is  great  upon  him.  Conscience 
is  chastising  him  with  scorpions.  See  how  he  writhes  !  Hear 
how  he  shrieks  for  help !  Mark  what  agony  and  terror  are  in 
his  soul  and  on  his  brow !  Death  stares  him  in  the  face,  and 
shakes  at  him  his  iron  spear.  He  trembles,  he  turns  pale,  as  a 
culprit  at  the  bar,  as  a  convict  on  the  scaffold.  Terrors  gather 
in  battle  array  about  him.  He  looks  back,  and  the  storms  of 
Sinai  pursue  him;  forward,  and  hell  is  moved  to  meet  him; 
above,  and  the  heavens  are  on  fire;  beneath,  and  the  world  is 
burning.  He  listens,  and  the  judgment  trump  is  calling;  again, 
and  the  brazen  chariots  of  vengeance  are  thundering  from  afar; 
yet  again,  and  the  sentence  pierces  his  soul  with  anguish  un- 
speakable :  '  Depart,  ye  cursed !'  " 

Dr.  Johnson  was  guilty  of  preferring  the  subjoined 
to  any  thing  in  Shakespeare,  from  William  Congreve,  in 
whose  single  tragedy,  "  The  Mourning  Bride,"  you  will 
find  it : 

"Almeria.  It  was  a  fancied  noise,  for  all  is  hush'd. 

"Leonora.  It  bore  the  accent  of  a  human  voice. 

"Almeria.  It  was  thy  fear;  or  else  some  transient  wind 
Whistling  through  hollows  of  this  vaulted  aisle. 
We'll  listen  !— 

"Leonora.  Hark ! 

"Almeria.  No !   All  is  hush'd  and  still  as  death.   'Tis  dreadful ! 
How  reverent  is  the  face  of  this  tall  pile, 
Whose  ancient  pillars  rear  their  marble  heads 
To  bear  aloft  its  arch'd  and  ponderous  roof, 
Looking  tranquillity.     It  strikes  an  awe 
And  terror  on  my  aching  sight.     The  tombs 
And  monumental  caves  of  death  look  cold, 
And  shoot  a  chillness  to  my  trembling  heart. 
Give  me  thy  hand,  and  let  me  hear  thy  voice. 
Nay,  quickly  speak  to  me,  and  let  me  hear — 
My  own  affrights  me  with  its  echoes." 

In  the  famous  Marseillaise  Hymn,  by  Rouget  de  Lisle, 
we  obtain,  in  the  opening  burst,  both  vision  and  hear- 
ing: 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  387 

"  Ye  sons  of  France,  awake  to  glory  ! 

Hark  !     Hark !     What  myriads  bid  you  rise  ! 
Your  children,  wives,  and  grandsires  hoary; 
Behold  their  tears,  and  hear  their  cries." 

Or  again,  your  author  translating  from  the  Spanish : 

\f. 

"  The  farmer,  while  he  drives  his  plow, 
When  keen  November  twirls  the  bough, 
Hears  the  rich  autumn's  yellow  grain 
Rustle  around  the  reaper  train ; 
And  sees  the  blest  and  bounteous  sod, 
All  glistening  with  the  gold  of  God." 

CXXXV.  Motion,  never  before  catalogued  as  a  figure, 
does  nevertheless  much  deserve  a  place.  It  occurs  when 
we  speak  of  journeying  or  moving  to  some  scene.  Thus 
De  la  Rue,  speaking  of  the  death  of  an  aged  sinner : 

"  Let  us  approach  the  bed  of  this  sinner,  who  is  so  bold  that 
he  encourages  the  hope  of  life  even  at  the  very  gate  of  death, 
and  yet  so  timid  respecting  his  health  that  he  dare  not  so  much 
as  think  upon  God,  lest  he  should  impair  it  by  some  gloomy 
thought  Ah,  what  darkness  of  mind  !  What  trouble  of  heart ! 
Let  us  enter  into  both — into  his  mind  and  into  his  heart — and 
let  us  see  what  is  their  disposition  toward  God." 

Abbadie,  again,  thus  speaks  in  his  sermon  on  Abra- 
ham's offering  up  of  Isaac : 

"  Go  to  Moriah,  and  you  will  find  there  a  victim  who  follows 
the  priest  without  knowing  at  first  whither  he  is  going.  Go  to 
Calvary,  and  you  see  Jesus  Christ,  who,  perfectly  acquainted 
with  His  destiny,  says  to  God, '  Lo,  I  come  to  do  Thy  will,  O 
God !'  There,  angels  are  sent  from  heaven  to  direct  the  arm 
of  Abraham.  Here,  devils  issue  from  beneath  to  hasten  the 
death  of  Jesus." 

Saurin,  the  eminent  French  Protestant  divine,  thus  di- 
rects one  struggling  to  scare  his  passions  into  subjuga- 
tion: 


388          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Let  him  go  down  in  thought  into  that  gulf  where  the  wicked 
expiate  in  eternal  torments  their  momentary  pleasures ;  let  him 
often  approach  the  fire  that  consumes  them." 

Thomas  Hooker,  an  old  New  England  preacher,  thus 
speaks : 

"Go  thy  way  home,  and  read  but  this  text,  Rom.  iv.,  12;  and 
consider  seriously  but  this  one  thing  in  it,  that  whosoever  is  a 
son  of  Abraham  hath  faith,  and  whosoever  hath  faith  is  a  walk- 
er, is  a  marker;  by  the  footsteps  of  Faith  you  may  see  where 
Faith  hath  been." 

In  Plutarch,  whose  "  Lives  "  form  one  of  the  world's 
choicest  books,  this  is  given — a  statement  of  a  fact  that 
can  not  be  too  much  pondered : 

"  Pass  over  the  earth ;  we  may  discover  cities  without  walls, 
without  literature,  without  monarchs,  without  wealth  or  palaces, 
where  the  theatre  and  the  school  are  not  known ;  but  no  man 
ever  saw  a  city  without  temples  and  gods,  where  prayers  and 
oaths  and  oracles  and  sacrifices  are  not  used  for  obtaining 
good  or  for  averting  evil." 

Again,  Dr.  Gregory  T.  Bedell  places  this  figure  before 
you  in  somewhat  of  a  different  phase,  asking  permission 
to  move  on,  or  urgently  demanding  that  permission. 
He  speaks  of  the  society  that  will  be  in  heaven : 

"This  communion  of  saints  is  thrown  entirely  into  the  shade. 
Let  me  pass,  ye  prophets,  ye  apostles,  ye  martyrs  !  A  greater 
than  you  all  is  yet  to  be  discovered !  That  society  is  blessed 
with  the  peculiar  presence  of  the  great  God  himself." 

Turn  now  to  Psalm  cxxxix.,  7-10 ;  and  thence  to 
Richard  Watson : 

"Go  to  the  heavens  which  canopy  man  with  grandeur,  cheer 
his  steps  with  successive  light,  and  mark  his  festivals  with 
their  chronology;  go  to  the  atmosphere  which  energizes  his 
spirits,  and  is  to  him  the  breath  of  life;  go  to  the  smiling 
fields  decked  with  verdure  for  his  eye,  and  covered  with  fruit 
for  his  sustenance;  go  to  every  scene  which  spreads  beauty 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  389 

before  his  gaze,  which  is  made  harmoniously  vocal  to  his  ear, 
which  fills  or  delights  the  mind  by  its  glow  or  by  its  greatness ; — 
we  travel  with  you,  we  admire  with  you,  we  feel  and  enjoy  with 
you,  we  adore  with  you ;  but  we  stay  not  with  you.  We  hasten 
on  in  search  of  a  demonstration  more  convincing  that  God  is 
Love,  and  we  rest  not  till  we  press  into  the  strange,  the  mourn- 
ful, the  joyous  scenes  of  Calvary;  and  amid  the  throng  of  in- 
visible and  astonished  angels,  weeping  disciples,  and  mocking 
foes,  under  the  arch  of  the  darkened  heavens,  and  with  earth 
trembling  beneath  our  feet,  we  gaze  upon  the  meek,  the  re- 
signed, the  suffering  Saviour,  and  exclaim, '  Herein  is  Love!'  " 

Another  form  of  this  most  noble  figure  we  have,  when 
an  important  object  is  introduced  in  the  act  of  drawing 
near  to  us,  or  going  away.  Thus  from  Vinet's  "  Out- 
lines of  Theology,"  a  book  of  the  most  delicate  beauty, 
and  of  the  greatest  richness  of  thought.  It  is  of  obe- 
dience he  discourses: 

"  One  would  say,  in  a  certain  sense,  that  the  present  genera- 
tion has  lost  it  altogether— nor  has  this  loss  in  any  manner  ad- 
vanced the  cause  of  freedom ;  for  freedom,  if  true  and  worthy,  is 
always  proportioned  to  obedience,  their  principle  in  the  depths 
of  the  soul  being  one  and  the  same,  and  the  two  streams  flow- 
ing, so  to  speak,  from  the  same  source.  The  true  principle  of 
obedience  is  liberty.  Liberty  alone  is  able  to  obey;  he  who 
is  not  free  can  not  render  true  obedience  to  a  law.  He  may 
yield,  bend ;  he  can  not  obey.  It  is  in  order  that  we  may  have 
power  to  obey  that  we  have  been  made  free.  This  considera- 
tion gives  us  the  measure  of  the  moral  decline  of  our  epoch ; 
Obedience  is  retiring  rapidly,  drawing  after  her  her  sister  Lib- 
erty. They  are  not  yet,  thank  God,  out  of  sight,  but  he  who 
wishes  to  reach  them  must  make  haste — their  majestic  figures 
have  already  half  vanished  beneath  the  horizon." 

In  Milton's  First  Book,  very  perfect,  occurs,  at  line 
283,  a  form  of  expression  which  to  motion  owes  its 
strange  charm,  difficult  to  analyze : 

"  He  scarce  had  ceased  when  the  superior  Fiend 
Was  moving  toward  the  shore." 


390          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Both  Homer  and  Virgil  produce  fine  effects  by  the 
ascription  of  rapid  motion  to  god  or  to  goddess : 

"  But  she  to  Olympus  had  gone;" 

instead  of — 

"  She  to  Olympus  went," 

in  Book  First  of  the  "  Iliad,"  line  221.  Altogether,  the 
man  who  will  not  labor,  for  many  a  year,  to  make  him- 
self exceedingly  familiar  with  all  these  exquisite  weap- 
ons of  oratory  is  too  mean-minded  to  deserve  to  be  let 
into  a  pulpit.  To  know  at  all  how  great  God  is,  we  need 
to  know  how  great  a  thing  language  is.  God  hath  made 
no  greater  thing  than  language  is;  neither  is  there  any 
miracle  made  by  God  nearer  to  us  than  language;  and 
he  who  is  very  familiar  with  these  lovely  and  mighty 
figures  will  find  these  figures  springing  as  naturally  to 
his  lips  as  breath  springs  to  his  lungs. 

CXXXVI.  Climax  is  the  next  figure.  From  the  Greek 
it  is,  meaning  Ladder.  In  this  figure  the  orator  builds 
up  idea  on  idea  till  a  grand  apex  crowns  the  whole  pyra- 
mid ;  as  in  Rom.  viii.,  38.  There  is  thus  afforded  a  grat- 
ification similar  to  what  we  receive  in  ascending  a  hill 
situated  in  the  centre  of  a  rich  and  varied  landscape, 
where  at  every  climbing  step  a  grander  prospect  bursts 
on  the  eye.  It  greatly  contributes  to  energy,  but  is 
apt  to  seem  overlabored ;  as  thus : 

"  O  thou,  Dalhousie,  thou  great  god  of  war, 
Lieutenant-Colonel  to  the  Earl  of  Mar !" 

In  the  warning  which  John  Wesley  gave  from  the 
pulpit  to  certain  light-fingered  gentry,  who  were  watch- 
ing their  chance  in  a  crowded  congregation,  he  thus 
spake : 

"  I  am  told  several  pickpockets  are  here.  Let  them  remem- 
ber that  the  eye  of  God  is  on  them ;  and  also  that  there  are  a 
number  of  policemen  in  the  house." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  391 

But  it  is  a  genuine  climax  we  have  from  the  Irish  law- 
yer Curran : 

"  I  speak  in  the  spirit  of  the  British  law,  which  makes  lib- 
erty commensurate  with  and  inseparable  from  British  soil; 
which  proclaims  even  to  the  stranger  and  the  sojourner,  the 
first  moment  that  he  sets  foot  upon  British  earth,  that  the 
ground  upon  which  he  treads  is  holy,  and  consecrated  by  the 
genius  of  universal  emancipation.  No  matter  in  what  lan- 
guage his  doom  may  have  been  pronounced ;  no  matter  what 
complexion,  incompatible  with  freedom,  an  Indian  or  an  Afri- 
can sun  may  have  burned  upon  him ;  no  matter  in  what  disas- 
trous battle  his  liberty  may  have  been  cloven  down ;  no  mat- 
ter with  what  solemnities  he  may  have  been  devoted  upon  the 
altar  of  slavery — the  moment  he  touches  the  sacred  soil  of 
Britain  the  altar  and  the  god  sink  together  in  the  dust;  his 
soul  walks  abroad  in  her  own  majesty;  his  body  swells  beyond 
the  measure  of  the  chains  that  burst  from  around  him ;  and  he 
stands  regenerated  and  disenthralled  by  the  irresistible  genius 
of  universal  emancipation." 

In  that  very  pleasant  work,  by  the  great  chemist,  Sir 
Humphrey  Davy,  "  Salmonia,  or  Days  of  Fly-fishing," 
we  meet  with  what  follows ;  it  is  a  true  chief  in  science 
who  speaks : 

"  I  envy  no  quality  of  the  mind  or  intellect  in  others — not 
genius,  power,  wit,  or  fancy;  but  if  I  could  choose  what  would 
be  most  delightful  and  I  believe  most  useful  to  me,  I  should 
prefer  a  firm  religious  belief  to  every  other  blessing;  for  it 
makes  life  a  discipline  of  goodness;  creates  new  hopes  when 
all  earthly  hopes  vanish;  throws  over  the  decay,  the  destruc- 
tion of  existence,  the  most  gorgeous  of  all  lights ;  awakens  life 
even  in  death;  from  corruption  and  decay  calls  up  beauty  and 
divinity,  and  makes  the  very  Cross,  that  instrument  of  torture 
and  of  shame,  the  ladder  of  ascent  to  Paradise." 

In  a  sermon  by  the  eloquent  W.  J.  Fox  occurs  this 
panegyric  on  Greece,  richly  swelling  into  climax : 

"  From  the  dawn  of  intellect  and  freedom,  Greece  has  been 
a  watchword  on  the  earth.  There  rose  the  social  spirit  to 


392          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

soften  and  refine  her  chosen  race,  and  shelter,  as  in  a  nest,  her 
gentleness  from  the  rushing  storm  of  barbarism ;  there  liberty 
first  built  her  mountain  throne,  and  shouted  across  the  waves 
a  proud  defiance  to  despotism's  banded  myriads;  there  the 
arts  and  graces  danced  around  humanity,  and  stored  man's 
home  with  comforts,  and  strewed  his  path  with  roses,  and  bound 
his  brows  with  myrtle,  and  fashioned  for  him  the  breathing 
statue,  and  summoned  him  to  temples  of  snowy  marble,  and 
charmed  his  senses  with  all  forms  of  eloquence,  and  threw  over 
his  final  sleep  their  veil  of  loveliness.  There  sprung  poetry, 
like  their  own  fabled  goddess,  mature  at  once  from  the  teem- 
ing intellect,  gilt  with  the  arts  and  armor  that  defy  the  assaults 
of  time  and  subdue  the  heart  of  man.  There  matchless  orators 
gave  the  world  a  model  of  perfect  eloquence — the  soul  being 
the  instrument  on  which  they  played,  and  every  passion  of  our 
nature  being  but  a  tone,  which  the  master's  touch  called  forth 
at  will.  There  lived  and  taught  the  philosophers  of  bower  and 
porch,  of  pride  and  pleasure,  of  deep  speculation  and  of  useful 
action  :  who  developed  all  the  acuteness  and  refinement  and 
excursiveness  and  energy  of  the -mind,  and  were  the  glory  of 
their  country  when  their  country  was  the  glory  of  the  earth." 

Strictly  speaking,  climax  occurs  when  each  successive 
clause  of  a  sentence  begins  with  the  conclusion  of  the 
preceding,  the  sense  swelling  all  the  time ;  as  in  this  of 
Cicero : 

"  What  hope  is  there  for  liberty  if  what  these  men  wish  to 
do  the  law  permits  them  to  do;  if  what  the  law  permits  them 
to  do  they  are  able  to  do ;  if  what  they  are  able  to  do  they 
dare  do;  and  if  what  they  dare  do  gives  you  no  offense." 

But  under  climax  we  have  included  also  what  the 
rhetors  term  strictly  Incrementum — that  is,  Amplifica- 
tion, that  increases  as  the  sentence  advances.  In  con- 
nection with  climax  is  epiploce,  by  which  one  striking 
circumstance  is  added  in  due  gradation  to  another,  as : 

"  He  not  only  spared  his  enemies,  but  continued  them  in 
employment;  not  only  continued  them  in  employment,  but  ad- 
vanced them." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  393 

Then  the  climax  may  be  so  arranged  as  to  breathe 
strongly  of  irony,  contempt,  sarcasm ;  as  when  Richard 
Brinsley  Sheridan,  in  his  magnificent  oration  against  a 
great  ruler,  Warren  Hastings,  thus  speaks : 

"It  was  after  the  angry  dispensations  of  Providence  had, 
with  a  progressive  severity  of  chastisement,  visited  the  land 
with  a  famine  one  year,  and  with  a  Colonel  Hannah  the  next." 

William  Hayley  bestows  on  us  the  subjoined  epitaph 
on  Cowper — a  sentiment  ascending  to  the  close : 

"  Ye  who  with  warmth  the  public  triumph  feel 
Of  talents  dignified  by  sacred  zeal, 
Here  to  devotion's  bard  devoutly  just, 
Pay  your  fond  tribute  due  to  Cowper's  dust. 
England,  exulting  in  his  spotless  fame. 
Ranks  with  her  dearest  sons  his  favorite  name. 
Sense,  fancy,  wit,  suffice  not  all  to  raise 
So  clear  a  title  to  affection's  praise; 
His  highest  honors  to  the  heart  belong, 
His  virtues  form'd  the  magic  of  his  song." 

Chief-Justice  Story,  that  ornament  of  American  juris- 
prudence, enriches  us  with  one  more  specimen,  on  Lord 
Mansfield.  Junius  has  violently  attacked  Mansfield,  who, 
however,  was  a  lawyer  to  whom  England  and  America 
are  under  the  deepest  obligations.  The  following  pane- 
gyric from  such  a  quarter  as  Story  may  well  put  us  on 
our  guard  against  trusting  Junius  implicitly : 

"  Wherever  commerce  shall  extend  its  social  influences  ; 
wherever  justice  shall  be  administered  by  enlightened  and  lib- 
eral rulers;  wherever  contracts  shall  be  expounded  upon  the 
eternal  principles  of  right  and  wrong;  wherever  moral  delicacy 
and  judicial  refinement  shall  be  infused  into  the  municipal  code, 
at  once  to  persuade  men  to  be  honest  and  to  keep  them  so; 
wherever  the  intercourse  of  mankind  shall  aim  at  something 
more  elevated  than  that  groveling  spirit  of  barter,  in  which 
meanness  and  avarice  and  fraud  strive  for  the  mastery  over 
ignorance,  credulity,  and  folly,  the  name  of  Lord  Mansfield  will 


394         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

be  held  in  reverence  by  the  good  and  the  wise ;  by  the  honest 
merchant,  the  enlightened  lawyer,  the  just  statesman,  and  the 
conscientious  judge." 

CXXXVIL  Anticlimax,  in  fine  opposition  to  climax, 
may  be  defined  "  a  ladder  to  get  down  by."  Lord  Ro- 
chester, meeting  a  bishop  in  the  antechamber  of  Charles 
II.,  said,  bowing  low,  ironically : 

"I  am  yours,  my  Lord  Bishop,  to  my  shoe-ties." — "I  am 
yours,"  said  the  Bishop,  "  to  the  ground." 

Rochester  continued : 

"  I  am  yours  to  the  centre." 
Rejoined  the  Bishop : 

"  I  am  yours  to  the  antipodes." 

Vexed  at  his  defeat  by  a  clergyman  and  a  man  of  piety, 
Rochester  cried : 

"I  am  yours  to  the  lowest  pit  of  destruction." — "There," 
finished  the  divine — "  there,  my  lord,  I  leave  you." 

This  figure  is  named  Catabasis. 

CXXXVIII.  From  Less  to  Greater.  Under  the  head 
of  climax  may  be  classified  that  form  of  words  by  which 
we  illustrate  an  object  by  moving  from  the  less  to  the 
greater.  S.,  "Julius  Caesar,"  act  iv.,  scene  iii.,  Brutus's 
47th  speech.  Thus  in  Bourdaloue's  great  sermon  on 
Luke  xxiii.,  27,  28: 

"  Here,  Christians,  is  one  of  the  essential  foundations  of  that 
terrible  mystery  of  the  eternity  of  the  punishments  with  which 
faith  threatens  us,  and  against  which  our  reason  revolts.  '  This 
blood,'  saith  St.  Chrysostom,  'when -profaned  and  rejected  by 
us,  is  enough  to  make  eternity,  not  less  frightful,  but  less  incred- 
ible.' This  blood,  if  we  destroy  ourselves,  will  cry  eternally 
against  us  at  the  tribunal  of  God.  This  blood,  falling  upon  lost 
souls,  will  fix  a  stain  upon  them  which  shall  never  be  effaced. 
Ah,  if  the  blood  of  the  prophets  has  drawn  down  the  scourge 
of  God  upon  man,  what  may  we  not  expect  from  the  blood  of 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  395 

Jesus  Christ  ?  If  the  blood  of  martyrs  is  heard  crying  out  of 
heaven  against  the  persecutors  of  the  faith,  how  much  more 
will  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer  be  heard  !" 

Acts  xx.,  10-13.  Matt,  vii.,  11;  vi.,  30.  S.,  "Othello," 
act  iv.,  scene  i.,  lines  20,  21.  "  Henry  IV.,"  part  ii.,  act 
iv.,  scene  iv.,  King's  5th  speech,  lines  13,  14. 

The  gradual  growth  and  development  of  character 
may  also  be  ranged  under  climax.  For  this,  study  Shake- 
speare. He  differs  from  almost  all  other  dramatists,  in 
that  his  characters  are  not  introduced  as  complete  fig- 
ures at  first:  they  alter,  grow,  and  develop  under  our 
eye — a  high  process ;  we  had  almost  said,  godlike. 

CXXXIX.  From  the  Greater  to  the  Less.  The  move- 
ment of  the  mind  from  a  greater  thing  to  a  less,  the  op- 
posite of  the  foregoing,  is  very  often  most  beautiful. 
Very  noble  uses  can  the  most  trivial  things  thus  be  put 
to;  yes,  the  most  trivial  that  you  can  think  of;  their 
very  commonness  making  the  illustration  all  the  more 
distinct  and  pungent,  as  when  the  Volscian  general 
speaks  of  Coriolanus : 

"  Breaking  his  oath  and  resolution,  like 
A  twist  of  rotten  silk." 

And  Coriolanus  replies: 

"  Like  an  eagle  in  a  dove-cote,  I 
Flutter'd  your  Voices  in  Corioli." 

Again,  we  read : 

"  Holding  Corioli  in  the  name  of  Rome, 
Even  like  a  fawning  greyhound  in  the  leash." 

"  Coriolanus,"  act  i.,  scene  vi.,  5th  speech  of  Marcius. 
"  Julius  Caesar,"  act  iv.,  scene  i.,  lines  24-30.  "  Measure 
for  Measure,"  act  iii.,  scene  i.,  Isabella's  I2th  speech. 
"Winter's  Tale,"  act  ii.,  scene  i.,  Leontes's  7th  speech, 
line  4.  "  Henry  V.,"  act  ii.,  scene  ii.,  King  Henry's  8th 
speech,  line  5.  Search  into  this  minutely.  You  will  be 
amused  and  delighted  to  find  to  what  noblest  uses 


396          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Shakespeare  can  turn  the  commonest  and  meanest 
things.  This  is  very  striking ;  and  is  at  once  an  encour- 
agement and  a  humiliation — a  humiliation,  if  you  can 
not  speak  forcibly ;  yet,  for  your  encouragement,  the 
materials  of  powerful  writing  lie  thick  strewn  around 
you,  in  the  very  homeliest  objects  you  can  look  upon : 
in  minnow  or  midge ;  in  mouse  or  cheese-paring.  God 
works  with  the  tiniest  things,  and  so  can  genius.  If  you 
use,  in  illustration,  chiefly  stars,  oceans,  avalanches,  and 
such  like, -it  begets  the  suspicion  that  your  tendency  is 
to  rant  and  bombast.  Shakespeare,  the  unsurpassed, 
proves  to  you  that  objects  which  common  minds  over- 
look or  despise  are  invaluable  to  a  man  of  genius.  No 
remark  more  momentous  than  this  can  be  urged  upon 
you.  Gather  from  Shakespeare  a  hundred  cases  of  a 
noble  use  of  common  things.  Why,  even  objects  that 
are  disgusting  can  be  used  in  connection  with  themes 
the  loftiest:  Prov.  xi.,  22;  xv.,  17,  19;  Isa.  vii.,  20;  Psa. 
lii.,  2  ;  Ixviii.,  2. 

When  we  name  the  intellect-arousing  name  of  Christ, 
we  are  reminded  how  specially  He  used  to  think  and 
feel  in  the  mould  of  these  two  figures  last  mentioned— 
as  His  work  dictated ;  for  He  came  to  link  the  Greatest 
and  the  Holiest  with  man  in  man's  weakest  and  most 
depraved  condition;  and  the  lowest  with  the  most  ele- 
vated. It  was,  besides  implication  and  interrogation,  a 
great  law  of  Christ's  intellect  and  heart,  to  use  these  two 
figures — the  greatest  linked  to  the  least,  the  least  linked 
to  the  greatest.  Think  of  it,  how  He  compared  the 
Deity  to  a  hen !  Why,  perhaps  half  an  hour  before 
He  saw  a  hen  ill-used !  Mark  well  how  our  Master's  il- 
lustration, so  far  from  degrading  His  subject,  throws  a 
tender  sheen  around  the  Deity  which  is  unsurpassed  ; 
while,  on  the  other  hand,  the  domestic  fowl  obtains  a 
deeper  interest  and  a  sweeter  eloquence  than  even  she 
previously  had.  At  one  touch  of  His  intellect  and  of 
His  heart,  our  Jesus  threw  a  mild  lustre  over  at  once  the 


Figures  of  Rhetoric:  397 

most  sublime  height  and  over  scenes  the  most  unpre- 
tending. There  is  something  here  far  higher  than  genius, 
though  there  is  that,  too.  Throughout  Scripture  a  ten- 
der feeling  is  shown  for  dumb  creatures — a  feeling  which 
must  have  reached  its  highest  in  Jesus.  We  go  so  far  as 
to  fancy  that  there  was  a  benign  intention  and  reference 
in  Jesus's  being  born  among  cows  and  horses.  What 
other  of  the  world's  greatest  chiefs  was  born  in  a  stall  ? 
Ponder  this  point,  which  is  assuredly  a  new  reflection. 

And  what  sort  of  a  follower  of  Jesus  is  he  who,  being 
a  pulpit  orator,  scarcely  ever  makes  use  of  this  figure  of 
the  less  to  the  greater,  or  of  the  greater  to  the  meanest 
and  less  ?  Shame  to  such  a  man  !  These  two  figures 
deserve  each  a  volume.  Most  momentous,  they.  In 
every  sermon  make  use  of  them  —  though  we  believe 
they  have  never  been  enumerated  before.  They  are  in- 
valuable ;  the  more  especially  as  they  offer  you  instances 
by  the  thousand.  Turn  to  the  instances  to  which  we 
have  sent  you  in  Shakespeare — be  very  careful  to  study 
them  ;  and  of  this  be  sure,  that  you  can  make  the  noblest 
use  of  hundreds  and  hundreds  of  trivial,  common,  nay, 
ugly  things,  for  the  most  splendid  and  triumphant  ends 
sought  for  in  the  blessed  Christian  pulpit.  Wisely  will 
you  do,  to  seek  after  this  for  your  next  twenty  years. 

Further,  we  implore  you  to  turn  to  every  passage  we 
have  pointed  out.  This  book  will  be  shorn  of  one  half 
its  value  if  you  skip  them  by.  We  have  spent  much 
time  and  care  in  obtaining  them.  Turn  to  the  passages 
in  Shakespeare,  and  you  will  be  forced  to  admit  that 
you  never  half  appreciated  that  most  masterly  writer 
before.  So,  too,  our  passages  in  P.  L.  and  in  Scripture 
will  very  richly  reward  you. 


398          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  XX. 
FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    FIFTEENTH. 

t 

Parallelism. — Numeration. — Sudden  A ddress. — Surprisal. 
— Reservation. — Pause. — Double  Meaning. — Mimesis,  or 
Mimicry.  —  Archaism.  —  Concession.  —  Paramologia.  — 
Synchorosis,  or  Permission. — Prohibition. 

CXL.  PARALLELISM  demands  separate  mention,  as  a 
very  important  form  of  climax,  of  especial  value  in  the 
history  of  language,  of  poesy,  and  of  religious  thought ; 
owing  to  its  being  the  favorite  model  into  which  the 
grand,  inspired  Hebrew  poesy  throws  itself:  a  modei  in- 
trinsically nobler  than  the  arrangement,  merely  musical, 
according  to  feet,  as  among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  or 
according  to  rhyme,  as  with  us  and  the  modern  European 
nations.  To  study  parallelism,  open  the  Psalms,  the 
Proverbs,  the  lyrics  of  Isaiah  ;  for  example,  at  the  open- 
ing of  the  first  Psalm,  with  its  three  distichs,  in  which 
shape  our  Bibles  should  arrange  such  verses : 

"  Blessed  is  the  man  that  walketh  not  in  the  counsel  of  the 

ungodly; 

Nor  standeth  in  the  way  of  sinners, 
Nor  sitteth  in  the  seat  of  the  scornful." 

First,  an  example  from  Cyprian,  bishop  of  Carthage, 
pupil  of  Tertullian,  and  martyr: 

"  When  the  battle  comes,  for  His  name  and  honor,  maintain 
in  words  that  constancy  which  utters  confession,  in  torture  that 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  399 

confidence  which  joins  battle;  in  death  that  patience  which  re- 
ceives the  crown." 

Then  one  from  Tertullian : 

"If  thou  placest  a  wrong  in  God's  hand,  He  is  the  avenger; 
if  a  loss,  He  is  the  restorer;  if  pain,  He  is  a  physician;  if  death, 
He  is  the  resurrection." 

This  we  take  from  his  beautiful  discourse  on  "  Patience." 
While  Chrysostom — whose  name  is  so  emphatic,  "  Gold- 
en Mouth  " — is  continually  availing  himself  of  parallels, 
he  whom  no  one  of  the  fathers  surpasses  in  eloquence. 

CXLI.  Numeration  next  we  mention ;  arranging  un- 
der this  head  every  specification  of  numbers  for  the  sake 
of  making  a  deeper  or  more  graphic  impression.  This 
is  very  triumphant  in  Holy  Writ ;  study  the  specimens 
to  which  we  refer:  Prov.  ix.,  i;  xxx.,  21,29;  Solomon's 
Songv.,4;  Matt,  xviii.,  12,  21,  22  ;  xix.,  28,  29.  So  in  the 
"^Eneid,"  ii.,  126: 

"  Silent  was  he  for  twice  five  days." 

It  is  plain  in  all  such  passages  that  rhetorical  and  not 
mere  arithmetical  effects  are  sought.  It  is  evident 
that  with  some  "  the  first  red  cent "  plays  no  unimpor- 
tant part,  while  others  of  equal  refinement  come  down 
on  their  foes  "  like  a  thousand  of  bricks."  In  the  Scot- 
tish song,  sixpence  is  of  great  influence,  especially  when 
located  in  a  specified  way : 

"  When  I  hae  saxpence  under  my  thoom, 
I  can  get  credit  in  ilka  toon ; 
But  when  I  am  poor,  they  bid  me  gang  by; 
O  poverty  pairts  guid  companie  !" 

In  another  far-famed  Scottish  ballad,  "Auld  Robin 
Grey,"  by  Lady  Anne  Bernard,  we  find  this  instance : 

"  Before  he  had  been  gane  a  twelvemonth  and  a  day, 
My  faither  brak  his  airm,  our  cow  was  stown  away." 

It  was  a  remark  of  the  elder  Matthews  that  the  Ameri- 


4<3O          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

cans  do  every  thing,  and  expect  every  thing  to  be  done, 
in  about  twenty  minutes. 

But  this  figure  rises  at  times  into  the  region  of  the 
sublime.  As  in  nature,  the  scientific  observer  detects 
certain  numbers  recurring,  the  Deity  delighting  in  arith- 
metic and  the  geometrical:  a  crystal  of  quartz  having  in- 
variably six  sides,  and  a  garnet  twelve,  while  duality  is 
seen  every  where,  as  in  the  two  lobes  of  the  brain,  lungs, 
liver,  and  heart.  So  in  Holy  Scripture  there  are  favorite 
numbers ;  as  if  to  hint  to  us  that  in  the  varied  operation 
of  God's  free  will  on  nature,  and  in  the  wise  and  fatherly 
dispensations  of  grace  on  the  grand  remedial  plan  of 
Christianity,  there  are  fixed  laws,  given  to  the  Divine 
Will  by  the  Divine  Nature,  which  are  kept  by  and  hon-. 
ored  by  God  with  a  kind  of  sublime  obedience  that  is 
mastery  and  empire.  At  this  point  it  affords  us  much 
gratification  to  introduce  to  your  life-long  acquaintance 
a  work  than  which  this  century  has  produced  none  more 
truthful,  massive,  eloquent — Dr.  Bushnell's  volume  on 
"  Nature  and  the  Supernatural ;"  a  book  to  be  read 
again  and  again : 

"  Nature  is  the  realm  of  things,  the  supernatural  is  the  realm 
of  powers.  The  Revelation  of  John  contrives  in  so  many  ways 
to  intimate,  by  the  using  of  exact  numbers — in  the  seven  an- 
gels, and  seven  trumpets,  and  seven  vials;  in  the  four  living 
creatures,  and  four-and-twenty  elders;  in  the  hundred  and  forty 
and  four  thousand  of  them  that  are  sealed  ;  in  the  city,  the 
New  Jerusalem,  that  is  four  square,  having  its  height,  length, 
and  breadth  equal ;  with  twelve  gates  tended  by  twelve  angels, 
resting  on  twelve  foundations,  that  are  twelve  manner  of  pre- 
cious stones — by  such  images,  and  under  such  exact  notations 
of  arithmetic,  does  this  man  of  vision  put  us  on  conceiving  the 
glorious  and  exact  society  God  is  reconstructing  out  of  the 
fallen  powers." 

This  figure,  numeration,  enters  deeply  into  the  great 
doctrine  of  the  credibility  of  the  Scriptures.  It  is  fre- 
quently seen  that  the  old  Oriental  habit  of  desiring  to 


Figures  of  Rhetor  it.  401 

impart  as  memorable  a  form  as  possible  to  genealogical 
lists  and  chronological  or  statistical  tables,  has  led  the 
sacred  writers  to  throw  the  matter  they  were  handling 
into  a  shape  that  appears  to  us  strained  and  fantastic, 
as  in  the  fourteen  generations,  thrice  occurring,  specified 
in  Matt,  i.,  17.  This  digesting  of  the  generations,  three 
times  over,  into  fourteen,  could*  not  have  arisen  from 
ignorance,  falsification,  or  oversight,  but  from  rhetorical 
intention.  So  in  the  account  of  the  numbers  who  went 
down  with  Jacob  into  Egypt,  in  Gen.  xlvi.  Here  is  an 
evident  regard  to  certain  numbers,  seven  and  ten,  the 
symbols  of  sacredness  and  completeness ;  an  intensified 
symbol  when  multiplied  together.  Such  habits  of 
thought  prevailing  in  the  Hebrew  mind  demand  as  much 
to  be  considered  as  do  idioms  in  a  language ;  which  also, 
to  a  narrow  consideration,  seem  in  a  high  degree  outre. 
Many  of  Dr.  Colonso's  objections  to  Scripture  involve 
this  shallow  overlooking  of  old  and  very  interesting 
modes  of  thought.  Similar  modes  of  thought  are  in  the 
Deity  Himself;  for  they  show  themselves  continually  in 
botany,  when  a  flower  smiles;  in  chemistry, when  a  gem 
glistens ;  in  astronomy,  as  when  Bode's  Law  evolves  it- 
self in  the  paths  of  sublime  planets. 

Proceeding  to  a  vastly  different  quarter,  in  Dr.  Prior's 
two  valuable  volumes  of  translations  of  the  ancient 
Danish  ballads,  there  is  a  ballad,  "  Thor  of  Asgard,"  in 
which  Thor,  the  god  of  thunder,  disguised  as  a  strapping 
maiden,  comes  to  the  wedding-feast  prepared  for  the 
bride  by  the  bridegroom-king,  where  Thor  thus  exert- 
eth  his  appetite : 

"  A  whole  ox  carcass  the  maid  ate  up, 

And  thirty  sides  of  swine; 
And  took  to  her  meat  seven  hundred  loa-ves, 
Before  she  would  taste  of  wine. 

"  A  whole  ox  carcass  the  maid  ate  up, 
Her  loaves  and  her  bacon  first, 
Cc 


402          Might  *and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

And  then  twelve  barrels  of  ale  she  drank, 
Before  she  could  quench  her  thirst." 

To  balance  this  achievement,  in  the  ballad  of  Sir  Gen- 
selin,  the  lovely  Lady  Brynild,  after  a  light  lunch  of  two 
oxen,  five  tuns  of  ale,  and  seven  of  porridge,  winds  up 
the  evening's  disport  by  slaying,  with  the  end  of  her  stay- 
lace,  the  exact  number  c»f  fifteen  champions.  The  ballad- 
writers  love  to  be  pre.cise  and  scrupulous,  in  their  statis- 
tics of  the  marvelous.  Their  absurdities  are  delightful. 

William  Chillingworth  offers  us  our  next  illustration. 
He  is  regarded  as  being  a  most  eminent  model  of  manly 
argumentation,  in  his  "  Religion  of  Protestants  a  safe 
Way  to  Heaven,"  of  which  two  editions  were  sold  in  two 
months.  Locke  recommends  its  constant  perusal.  From 
one  of  his  nine  sermons,  let  us  quote : 

"Who  is  there  ever  so  madly  in  love  with  a  present  penny 
as  to  run  the  least  hazard  of  the  loss  of  £1000  a  year  to  gain 
it,  or  not  readily  to  part  from  it,  or  upon  any  probable  hope  or 
light  persuasion,  much  more  a  firm  belief,  that  by  doing  so  he 
should  gain  £100,000  ?  Now,  beloved,  the  happiness  which  the 
servants  of  Christ  are  promised  in  the  Scriptures,  we  all  pre- 
tend to  believe  that  it  exceeds  the  conjunction  of  all  the  good 
things  of  the  world,  and  much  more  such  a  proportion  as  we 
may  possibly  enjoy,  infinitely  more  than  £10,000  a  year,  or 
£100,000,  doth  a  penny;  for  £100,000  is  but  a  penny  so  many 
times  over,  and  £10,000  a  year  is  worth  but  a  certain  number 
of  pence;  but  between  heaven  and  earth,  between  finite  and  in- 
finite, between  eternity  and  a  moment,  there  is  utterly  no  pro- 
portion. And  therefore,  seeing  we  are  so  apt  upon  trifling  oc- 
casions to  hazard  this  heaven  for  this  earth,  this  infinite  for 
this  finite,  this  all  for  this  nothing,  is  it  not  much  to  be  feared 
that  though  many  of  us  pretend  to  much  faith,  we  have  indeed 
but  very  little  or  none  at  all." 

Mark  the  climax  here,  and  the  pleonasm ;  and  how  they 
impart  force  and  liveliness.  While  in  P.  L.,  i.,  74,  Milton 
puts  Hell  as  far— 

"As  from  the  centre  thrice  to  the  utmost  pole;" 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  403 

that  is,  to  the  pole  of  the  universe.  Homer  is  satisfied 
to  put  it  as  far  beneath  earth's  deepest  as  heaven  is  above 
the  earth ;  while  Virgil  puts  it  twice  as  far. 

Still  farther,  numeration  may  contain  within  it  a  form 
of  wit;  thus  ancient  Joseph  Miller  mentions  an  Irish- 
man who  enlisted  into  the  Fifth  Regiment,  so  as  to  be 
near  his  brother,  who  was  in  the  Fourth.  S., "  Romeo  and 
Juliet,"  act  iii.,  scene  iii.,  the  Friar's  i$th  speech,  line  46. 

From  an  old  mystic  of  the  Middle  Ages,  Suso,  we 
quote  the  following: 

"  O  separation  !  Separation  from  God  and  bliss,  how  pain- 
ful art  thou  !  O  the  wringing  of  hands  !  O  sobbing,  sighing, 
and  weeping;  unceasing  lamentation,  yet  never  to  be  heard. 
1  Give  us  a  millstone,'  say  the  lost, '  as  large  as  the  whole  earth, 
and  so  wide  in  circumference  as  to  touch  the  sky  all  around, 
and  let  a  little  bird  come  once  in  a  hundred  thousand  years 
and  pick  off  a  small  particle  of  the  stone,  not  larger  than  the 
tenth  part  of  a  grain  of  millet;  after  another  hundred  thousand 
years  let  him  come  again,  so  that  he  would  pick  off  as  much  as 
a  grain  of  millet,  we  wretched  sinners  would  ask  nothing  but 
that,  when  this  stone  has  an  end,  our  pains  might  cease.'  Yet 
even  this  can  not  be." 

The  comedies  of  Congreve,  most  unfortunately  very 
immoral,  are  admirably  witty. ,  Saith  the  jocund  land- 
lord, Boniface : 

"  Sir,  I  have  now  in  my  cellar  ten  tun  of  the  best  ale  in 
Staffordshire.  'Tis  smooth  as  oil,  sweet  as  milk,  clear  as  am- 
ber, and  strong  as  brandy ;  and  will  be  just  fourteen  years  old 
the  fifth  day  of  next  March,  old  style." 

Robert  Henryson,  in  his  "  Borrowstown  Mouse  and 
Landward  Mouse,"  runs  into  this  figure: 

"  To  eek  the  cheer,  in  plenty  furth  they  broucht 
A  plate  of  groatis,  and  a  dish  of  meal ; 
A  threif  of  cakes — I  trow  she  spared  them  nought." 

A  "  threif"  is  a  lot  of  twenty. 


404          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

CXLII.  In  farther  proceeding  with  our  subject,  we 
hope  to  be  found  duly  observant  of  the  difference  be- 
tween figures  of  speech  and  modes  of  argument.  With 
the  latter  we  have  in  this  volume  nothing  to  do.  The 
two  occasionally  approach  each  other.  We  have  endeav- 
ored to  avoid  mistaking  the  one  for  the  other.  Rhetoric, 
not  Logic,  is  our  department ;  though  they  are  often  near 
neighbors  and  kinsfolk.  A  powerful  figure  is  many  a 
time  a  resistless  argument  that  flashes  to  the  heart. 

Sudden  Address  is  a  form  into  which  words  are  thrown 
by  eager  desire  to  gain  to  our  object  the  assent  of  our 
hearers  as  quickly  as  possible.  In  Julius  Charles  Hare's 
"Sketch  of  the  Life  of  John  Stirling"  is  found  this  an- 
ecdote of  Stirling's  boyhood  at  school : 

"  He  was  standing  near  the  head  boy,  when  a  new  usher 
asked  some  question  about  a  small  closed  book-case.  The 
boy  answered  that  it  contained  a  collection  for  the  use  of  the 
school,  which  had  for  some  reason  been  locked  up  and  disused. 
'  Formerly,'  he  said, '  it  was  managed  by  a  committee  of  the 
boys ;  and  though  on  a  small  scale,  was  conducted,  I  assure 
you,  sir,  with  all  the  regularity  that  would  be  found  in  the  larg- 
est institutions.'  The  elegance  with  which  these  clauses  were 
put  together  and  varied,  and  the  spirit  of  the  personal  address 
in  the  middle,  struck  him  as  admirable,  and  though  it  expressed 
no  thought  or  image,  lingered  in  his  mind,  after  much  that  was 
more  memorable  had  passed  away." 

How  significant  a  proof  of  the  heart-reaching  force  of 
such  a  usage  of  speech,  when  it  lingers  in  the  memory 
of  a  youth  of  genius  from  boyhood  till  death.  How  im- 
portant to  be  so  familiar  with  such  usages,  that  they  will 
come  without  an  effort  to  recall  them,  as  soon  as  the 
passion  and  exigency  of  the  moment  need  them. 

From  the  Rev.  W.  L.  Bowles  accept  of  an  illustration : 

"  I  was  a  child  when  first  I  heard  the  sound 
Of  the  great  sea !     'Twas  night,  and,  journeying  far, 
We  were  belated  on  our  road,  mid  scenes 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  405 

New  and  unknown,  a  mother  and  her  child, 
Now  first  in  this  wide  world  a  wanderer; 
My  father  came,  the  pastor  of  the  church 
That  crowns  the  high  hill  crest  above  the  sea. 
When  as  the  wheels  went  slow,  and  the  still  wind 
Seem'd  listening,  a  low  murmuring  met  the  ear — 
Not  of  the  winds.     My  mother  softly  said: 
'  Listen  !     It  is  the  sea !'     With  breathless  awe 
I  heard  the  sound,  and  closer  press'd  her  hand." 

Here  a  universal  feeling  is  brought  out,  the  feeling  of 
awe  in  presence  of  ocean,  and  brought  out  more  vividly 
by  sudden  address  than  it  could  in  any  other  way.  This 
figure  suits  pulpit  oratory  well ;  only  beware  that  every 
strong  figure  you  use  have  a  strong  feeling  under  it ; 
and  then  even  the  use  of  "  Sirs  "  in  address,  instead  of 
the  too  usual  "  My  friends,"  will  help  to  give  liveliness 
to  a  sermon. 

In  an  amusing  and  instructive  volume,  "  The  Greyson 
Letters,"  by  Rogers,  this  lively  piece  of  writing  occurs : 

"What  is  it?"  says  Reason,  earnestly  gazing  at  a  piece  of 
chalk.  "  Is  it  any  thing  out  of  me,  or  is  it  in  me?  Is  it  part  of 
'the  me'  or  'the  not  me' — objective,  or  merely  subjective?" 
Now  methinks  Sense  would  say,  if  it  had  the  command  of  the 
tongue,  "What  a  puzzle  friend  Reason  seems  to  be  in  !  Halloo, 
there  !  Haven't  I  told  you  a  thousand  times  that  it  is  out  of  you ; 
that  it  is  a  part  of  your  '  not  me,'  as  you  call  it  in  your  incom- 
prehensible jargon;  it's  chalk,  man,  chalk,  and  nothing  else." 

A  close  study  of  Rogers's  "  Eclipse  of  Faith  "  will 
bring  you  into  contact  with  thorough  reasoning  and 
genial  humor. 

We  have  a  slight  touch  of  this  figure  of  sudden  ad- 
dress in  Shakespeare's  snatch  of  song,  in  his  u  Winter's 
Tale:" 

"A  merry  heart  goes  all  the  day, 
Your  sad  tires  in  a  mile-a." 

He  is  little  sensitive  to  the  slighter  charms  of  language 


406          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

who  feels  not  a  certain  indescribable  charm  in  the  word 
"  your." 

Mr.  Geare,  a  youthful  poet,  one  of  the  most  recent, 
thus  breaks  forth  in  an  address  to  the  dearest  of  friends : 

"  O  mother  mine  !     I  scarcely  dare 

To  call  thee  thus  !     I  know  thy  place 
Before  the  loving  Master's  face; 
Thou  art  my  mother  even  there  ! 

CXLIII.  Surprisal  is  nearly  connected  with  sudden 
address,  with  dubitation,  aporia,  and  pretended  discov- 
ery. In  the  Latin  and  Greek  models,  the  important 
word  is  continually  kept  to  the  end  of  the  sentence  ;  and 
the  English  and  American  orators  often  keep  their  se- 
cret in  the  same  way.  In  the  First  Philippic  of  our 
matchless,  ever-dear,  thrice-honored  Athenian,  we  find 
this: 

"  Let  us  but  engage  in  the  enterprise,  and,  men  of  Athens, 
the  weak  points  of  this  man  will  be  discovered  to  you  by — the 
war  itself." 

But  the  figure  may  be  carried  to  a  far  greater  length, 
so  as  to  impart  to  a  statement  much  of  the  interest  of  a 
skillfully  postponed  denouement  in  a  novel ;  or  so  as  to 
carry  home  to  the  hearer's  soul  an  irresistible  conviction. 
Every  one  who  knows  his  Bible  will  bethink  him  of  the 
inimitable  address  of  Nathan  to  David ;  when  burst  the 
thunder.  You  will  search  iii  vain  the  Socrates  of  Xeno- 
phon  or  Plato  for  any  thing  so  fine  as  this.  It  may  be 
added,  that  to  put  a  case  so  that  your  audience  will  be 
irresistibly  prompted  to  implore  an  explanation,  which 
explanation  you  have  at  hand,  and  which  will  clinch 
your  argument  or  hurry  home  your  appeal,  is  one  of  the 
boldest  forms  of  oratory.  This  occurs  frequently  in  the 
addresses  of  Jesus ;  a  fact  that  of  itself  goes  far  to  prove 
Him  a  master  of  persuasion.  Luke  viii.,  9 ;  xii.,  41 ;  xvii., 
37.  Every  one  who  aspires  to  be  a  great  speaker  should 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  407 

study,  far  more  closely  than  ever  he  has  done,  the  speeches 
of  Jesus. 

How  nobly  is  this  figure  employed  by  the  great  Bour- 
daloue,  in  his  masterpiece  of  pulpit  eloquence,  which  thus 
opens.  Being  preached  before  the  king — yet  with  little 
of  popery  in  it — it  begins  with  the  word  "Sire;"  and  it 
is  to  our  own  sin  he  refers,  his  text  being  the  words  of 
Jesus  in  Luke  xxiii.,  28:  "  Weep  not  for  me,  but  weep 
for  yourselves,  and  for  your  children." 

"  Sire,  is  it  then  true  that  the  passion  of  Jesus  Christ — of 
which  we  celebrate  to-day  the  august  but  sorrowful  mystery — is 
not  the  most  touching  object  which  can  occupy  our  minds  and 
excite  our  grief?  Is  it  true  that  our  tears  can  be  more  suitably 
and  more  holily  employed  than  in  weeping  over  the  death  of 
the  God-man ;  and  that  another  duty,  more  pressing  and  more 
necessary,  suspends,  so  to  speak,  the  obligation  to  sympathize 
in  the  sufferings  of  our  divine  Redeemer?  Never  could  we 
have  supposed  it,  Christians;  and  yet  it  is  Jesus  Christ  who 
speaks  to  us.  Jesus  Christ  not  only  refuses  to  accept  of  your 
tears  for  His  death,  but  He  even  expressly  forbids  them;  be- 
cause to  weep  for  it  might  prevent  you  from  weeping  for  an- 
other evil  which  much  more  nearly  affects  you,  and  which  is 
indeed  more  deplorable  than  even  the  death  of  the  Son  of  God 
— your  own  death  in  impenitence." 

Let  our  clergymen  study,  aye,  for  the  twentieth  time, 
this  unsurpassable  Roman  Catholic  oration,  that  hath  so 
very  many  figures  in  it — a  figure  or  more  in  every  sen- 
tence ;  and  august  sublimities  to  which  Demosthenes 
never  reached,  for  the  Greek  son  of  liberty  had  never 
so  divine  a  theme  to  discuss.  Be  the  Protestant  rostrum 
never  drossy  and  torpid  !  Some  French  Roman  Catho- 
lic sermons  may  teach  you  many  a  peal  of  thunder,  than 
which  never  lightened  from  Sinai  bolts  more  arousing. 

CXLIV.  Reservation  can  be  catalogued  separately, 
though  it  never  has  been  before.  Thus  by  William 
Wirt,  in  his  speech  for  Blennerhasset.  He  is  narrating 
Aaron  Burr's  Satan-like  advent  into  the  Irishman's  home : 


408          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  He  comes  to  turn  this  paradise  into  hell.  Yet  the  flowers 
— they  do  not  wither  at  his  approach.  No  monitory  shudder- 
ing passes  through  the  bosom  of  their  unfortunate  possessor, 
to  warn  him  of  the  ruin  that  is  coming." 

This  mentioning  of  what  has  not  occurred  is  many  a 
time -very  effective;  enabling  the  orator  to  specify  the 
full  amount  of  blessings  or  curses  that  have  only  half  or 
not  even  half  shown  their  depth.  Let  the  pulpit  orator 
state  the  self-inflicted  miseries  that  we,  alas,  are  apt  to 
bring  on  ourselves;  or  let  him  reveal  to  us  that  dawn 
of  grandeur  and  peace  which  awaits  the  sincere ;  many 
such  a  statement  will  suit  Christian  eloquence. 

CXLV.  Pause  is  worth  putting  on  our  list.    As  a  figure 
it  may  be  used  in  a  great  variety  of  ways.     S.,  "Julius 
Caesar,"  act  iii.,  scene  ii.     In  Antony's  speech  is  this  : 
"  My  heart  is  in  the  coffin  there  with  Caesar, 
And  I  must  pause  till  it  come  back  to  me." 

From  Dr.  John  H.  Livingston's  so  influential  sermon, 
"  The  Flight  of  the  Angel  with  the  everlasting  Gospel  " 
— the  sermon  which  stimulated  the  missionary  zeal  of 
Mills,  Hall,  and  Richards,  of  Williams  College— let  this 
be  taken : 

"Why  are  convulsed  nations  rising  in  a  new  and  terrific 
form  to  exterminate  each  other?  Must  the  blood  so  long  cov- 
ered and  forgotten  by  men  now  come  in  remembrance  and  be 
disclosed?  Must  this  generation — we  forbear !  Judge  ye  !" 

Or  let  us  go  to  the  death-bed  of  Pope,  the  poet : 

"  I  have  known  him  these  thirty  years,"  said  St.  John,  Lord 
Bolingbroke,  to  Spence,  as  they  stood  together  at  the  dying-bed 
of  the  poet,  "  and  value  myself  more  for  that  man's  love  than  " 
— here  the  narrator  adds,  "St.  John  sank  his  head,  and  lost  his 
voice  in  tears." — "  The  sob  which  finishes  the  epitaph,"  Thack- 
eray remarks,  "  is  finer  than  words.  It  is  the  cloak  thrown  over 
the  father's  face  in  the  famous  Greek  picture,  which  hides  the 
grief  and  heightens  it." 

Death  may  often  be  painted  by  a  pause. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  409 

CXLVI.  Double  Meaning,  the  figure  that  comes  next, 
is  susceptible  of  skillful  treatment ;  sly  humor  is  especial- 
ly fond  of  it.  There  was  malice  prepense  in  an  apology 
once  made  in  the  British  House  of  Commons.  A  mem- 
ber had  given  the  lie  to  another  member,  for  which  of- 
fense being  compelled  to  apologize,  he  did  so  in  these 
words : 

"  I  said  the  honorable  gentleman  was  a  liar.  It  is  so.  I  am 
sorry  for  it." 

It  will  be  seen  at  once  that  this  figure  might  almost  be 
classed  under  paranomasia,  or  pun,  only  that  in  pun  we 
usually  have  two  different  words  the  same  in  sound ; 
whereas  in  double  meaning  there  is  one  word.  Thus, 
says  Macaulay,  book  1st,  chap.  i. : 

"  A  divine  of  that  age,  the  close  of  James's  reign,  who  was 
asked  by  a  simple  country  gentleman  what  the  Arminians 
held,  answered  with  as  much  truth  as  wit  that  they  held  all  the 
best  bishoprics  and  deaneries  in  England." 

For  Scripture  examples,  Matt,  viii.,  22  ;  John  xiii.,  10, 1 1 ; 
Luke  xvi.,  8;  xxi.,  3;  John  iv.,  10,  32,  35  ;  vi.,  53-57, 

63. 

CXLVII.  Mimesis,  or  Mimicry,  consists  in  mimicking 
the  mode  of  spelling  and  in  the  use  of  peculiar  words  of 
certain  districts,  periods,  or  individuals,  in  order  through 
the  spelling  or  use  of  such  peculiar  word  or  words  to  give 
a  lively  idea  of  certain  characteristic  modes  of  speaking. 
Thus  Falconer,  himself  a  seaman,  doomed  to  a  seaman's 
death  in  the  storm,  in  his  meritorious  poem,  "  The  Ship- 
wreck," which  deserves  a  place  in  every  sailor's  library,  fills 
many  of  his  lines  unmercifully  with  sea  terms — as  thus: 

"  Bow-lines  and  halyards  are  relax'd  again, 
Clew-lines  haul'd  down,  and  sheets  let  fly  amain, 
Clewed  up  each  top-sail,  and  by-braces  squar'd, 
The  seamen  climb  aloft  on  either  yard." 

This  is  worse  than  Greek  to  the  most  of  us ;   nay,  is  as 


410         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

hard  to  understand  as  the  names  of  figures  of  speech. 
However,  Sir  David  Lyndsay  of  the  Mount  makes  the 
law  lingo  of  his  time  how  simple : 

"  Marry,  I  lent  my  gossip  my  mare  to  fetch  home  coals, 
And  he  her  drounit  into  the  quarry  holes. 
And  I  ran  to  the  Consistory  for  to  pleinyie,  (complain) 
And  there  I  happenit  amang  ane  greidie  meinyie;  (crew) 
They  gave  me  first  ane  thing  they  call  citandum ; 
Within  aught  days  I  gat  but  libellendum ; 
Within  ane  month  I  gat  ad  opponendum ; 
In  half  ane  year  I  gat  inter-loquendum; 
And  syne  (then)  I  gat,  how  call  ye  it  ?     Ad  replicandum ; 
But  I  could  never  ane  word  yet  understand  him. 
Of  pronunciandum  they  made  me  wonder  fain  ; 
But  I  gat  never  my  gude  gray  mare  again !" 

It  delights  us  to  introduce  a  noble-hearted  beggar, 
who  deserves  to  be  an  old  acquaintance — Edie  Ochiltree, 
the  real  hero  of  Scott's  "  Antiquary,"  a  character  of  a 
hundred  years  ago,  authorized  by  the  law  to  beg  over  a 
certain  district.  He  is  descanting  on  certain  wallflowers 
that,  growing  in  the  neglected  garden  of  the  old  monas- 
try  of  Aberbrothic,  now  called  Arbroath,  are  shedding  a 
pleasant  fragrance  on  the  grim  midnight : 

"  I  am  thinking  they'll  be  like  some  folks'  gude  gifts,  that 
often  seem  maist  precious  in  adversity;  or  may  be  it's  a  para- 
ble, to  teach  us  no  to  slight  them  that  are  in  the  darkness  o' 
sin,  since  God  sends  odors  to  refresh  the  mirkest  hour,  and 
flowers  and  pleasant  bushes  to  clothe  the  ruined  buildings. 
And  now  I  would  like  a  wise  man  to  tell  me  whether  Heaven 
is  maist  pleased  wi'  the  sight  we  are  looking  upon — these  pleas- 
ant and  quiet  and  lang  streaks  o'  moonlight  that  are  lying  sae 
still  on  the  floor  o'  this  auld  kirk,  and  glancing  through  the 
great  pillars  and  stanchions  o'  the  carved  windows,  and  danc- 
ing on  the  leaves  o'  the  dark  ivy,  as  the  breath  of  winds  shakes 
it;  I  wonder  whether  this  is  mair  pleasing  to  Heaven  than  when 
it  was  lighted  up  with  lamps,  and  wi'  frankincense,  and  wi'  or- 
gans, and  all  instruments  o'  music." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  411 

CXLVIII.  Archaism  is  a  form  which  consists  of  old 
modes  of  spelling,  and  so  might  perhaps  be  catalogued 
more  fitly  under  figures  of  Etymology,  were  it  not  that 
it  includes  many  words  now  out  of  use,  as  well  as  pres- 
ent words  spelled  differently  from  now.  As  the  mosses 
on  an  old  bridge,  or  the  stains  of  time  on  an  abbey  wall, 
are  interesting,  so  are  graceful  archaisms.  Indeed,  we 
are  apt  to  value  mere  antiquity  too  highly;  as  Pope 
has  it: 

"  Authors,  like  coins,  grow  dear  as  they  grow  old ; 
It  is  the  rust  we  value,  not  the  gold." 

A  certain  tone  of  old  days  may  pervade  a  whole  work 
like  a  subtile  essence,  as  it  doth  Spenser's  "  Faerie 
Queene ;"  but  "  Childe  Harold's  Pilgrimage  "  soon  be- 
came tiresome  ;  Byron  threw  aside  the  archaisms  as  soon 
as  the  first  canto  was  concluded.  Thomson's  exquisite 
"  Castle  of  Indolence "  is,  however,  finely  haunted  by 
moon-rays  and  by  ivies  : 

"  Joined  to  the  prattle  of  the  purling  rills 

Were  heard  the  lowing  herds  along  the  vale ; 
And  flocks  loud  bleating  from  the  distant  hills, 

And  vacant  shepherds  piping  in  the  dale ; 

And  now  and  then  sweet  Philomel  would  wail, 
Or  stock-doves  'plain  amid  the  forest  deep, 

That  drowsy  rustled  to  the  sighing  gale ; 
And  still  a  coil  the  grasshopper  would  keep — 
Yet  all  these  sounds,  yblent,  inclined  all  to  sleep." 

CXLIX.  Concession;  CL.  Paramologia ;  CLI.  Syncho- 
resis,  or  Permission,  is  the  granting  of  all  or  of  much 
that  an  opponent  can  advance,  and  then  overbalancing 
all  this  by  decisive  considerations,  rendered  still  more 
decisive  by  the  very  concessions  that  have  been  made. 
Eccles.  xi.,  9;  Josh,  xxiv.,  14,  15;  James  ii.,  19;  Luke 
xii.,49-53. 

The  famous  statement,  long  since  proverbial,  of  the 


412          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

elder  William  Pitt,  first  Earl  of  Chatham,  the  very  soul 
of  grandeur  and  intensity,  is  an  instance : 

"  The  poorest  man  in  his  cottage  may  bid  defiance  to  all  the 
forces  of  the  Crown.  It  may  be  frail ;  its  roof  may  shake ;  the 
wind  may  blow  through  it;  the  storm  may  enter  it;  but  the 
King  of  England  can  not  enter  it.  All  his  power  dares  not 
cross  the  threshold  of  that  ruined  tenement." 

Here  let  us  be  permitted  to  point  out  one  chief  source 
of  the  commanding  eloquence  of  Chatham  : 

"  Not  content,"  says  Lord  Lyttelton,  "  to  correct  and  instruct 
his  imagination  by  the  works  of  men,  he  borrowed  his  noblest 
images  from  the  language  of  inspiration." 

In  which  respect  he  was  imitated  by  Burke,  Junius,  and 
other  distinguished  writers  and  speakers  of  that  day. 
Says  Dr.  Goodrich,  in  his  valuable  "  Compend  of  British 
Eloquence :" 

"  At  no  period  in  later  times  has  secular  eloquence  gathered 
so  many  of  her  images  and  allusions  from  the  pages  of  the 
Bible." 

It  is  what  Daniel  Webster  also  habitually  did. 

From  our  much-admired  Fisher  Ames  select  we  an 
additional  instance:  On  April  28,  1796,  the  House  of 
Representatives  debated  whether  the  laws  should  be 
passed  that  were  necessary  for  carrying  a  certain  treaty 
with  Britain  into  effect,  a  treaty  duly  ratified  by  the 
President  and  the  Senate.  A  party  were  against  ratify- 
ing; they  termed  it  coercion  to  have  to  give  effect  to 
the  treaty.  Ames  thus  spoke : 

"  I  can  not  lose  this  opportunity  to  remark  that  the  coercion 
so  much  dreaded  and  complained  against  appears  at  length  to 
be  no  more  than  the  authority  of  principles,  the  despotism  of 
duty.  Gentlemen  complain  we  are  forced  to  act  in  this  way — 
we  are  forced  to  swallow  the  treaty.  It  is  very  true — unless 
we  claim  the  liberty  of  abuse,  the  right  to  act  as  we  ought  not. 
There  is  but  one  right  way  open  for  us,  the  laws  of  morality 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  413 

and  good  faith  have  fenced  up  every  other.  It  is  for  tyrants 
to  complain  that  principles  are  restraints ;  and  that  they  have 
no  liberty,  so  long  as  their  despotism  has  limits." 

Let  his  speech  on  the  British  Treaty  be  studied,  sen- 
tence by  sentence.  No  finer  example  in  our  language 
how  to  utter  a  rich  variety  of  great  general  principles 
without  once  passing  from  an  orator  into  an  essayist. 
Concession  has  often  a  strain  of  irony  in  it.  Thus  Ames, 
farther  on  in  this  speech,  shows  that  those  who  objected 
to  the  particular  treaty  with  Britain  would  have  object- 
ed to  every  treaty  with  that  country: 

"  No  treaty,  exclaim  others,  should  be  made  with  a  monarch 
or  a  despot ;  there  will  be  no  naval  security  while  these  sea- 
robbers  domineer  on  the  ocean ;  their  den  must  be  destroyed ; 
that  nation  must  be  extirpated.  I  like  this,  sir,  because  it  is 
sincerity.  With  feelings  such  as  these,  we  do  not  pant  for 
treaties.  Such  passions  seek  nothing,  and  will  be  content  with 
nothing,  but  the  destruction  of  their  object.  If  a  treaty  left 
King  George  his  island,  it  would  not  answer,  not  if  he  stipu- 
lated to  pay  rent  for  it.  It  has  been  said  the  world  ought  to 
rejoice  if  Britain  were  sunk  in  the  sea;  if  where  there  are  now 
men,  and  wealth,  and  laws,  and  liberty,  there  were  no  more  than 
a  sand-bank  for  the  sea-monsters  to  prowl  on,  a  space  for  the 
storms  of  the  ocean  to  mingle  in  conflict.  I  object  nothing  to 
the  good-sense  or  humanity  of  all  this.  I  yield  that  this  is  a 
proof  that  the  age  of  reason  is  in  progress.  Let  it  be  philan- 
thropy, let  it  be  patriotism,  if  you  will ;  but  it  is  no  indication 
that  any  treaty  would  be  approved." 

This  last  quotation  prepares  the  way  for  saying  that 
the  word  "  let "  may  be  regarded  as  often  introducing 
this  figure,  a  very  common  one  ;  thus  from  Isaac  Watts  : 

"  Let  all  the  baneful  planets  shed 
Their  mingled  curses  on  my  head : 
How  vain  their  curses,  if  the  eternal  King 
Look  through  the  clouds,  and  bless  me  with  His  eyes." 

Dr.  South,  whose  sermons  abound  in   genius,  some- 


414         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

times  awoke  the  feeling  of  the  ludicrous,  in  a  way  that 
must  have  weakened  solemn  feelings  in  his  audience, 
unless  he  spake  such  passages  in  a  severely  ironical  tone. 
He  represents  one  as  thus  expressing  himself: 

"I  am  a  great  hearer  and  lover  of  sermons;  it  is  the  very 
delight  of  my  righteous  soul ;  indeed,  I  am  so  entirely  devoted 
to  the  hearing  of  them  that  I  have  hardly  any  time  left  to  prac- 
tice them ;  and  will  not  all  this  set  me  right  for  heaven  ?  Yes, 
no  doubt;  if  a  man  can  be  pulled  up  to  heaven  by  the  ears." 

It  is  a  privilege  to  introduce  to  you  here  Dr.  John 
Gumming,  whose  works,  none  rising  to  genius,  but  many 
highly  useful  for  purposes  of  practical  piety,  and  writ- 
ten in  a  plain,  easy,  perspicuous  style,  may  be  read  with 
much  profit — his  "  Scripture  Readings,"  for  example. 
The  following  is  from  the  very  excellent  volume  on 
Luke: 

"Do  away  with  soldiers,  and  your  homes  would  not  be  safe; 
disband  our  army,  burn  our  navy,  and  in  a  few  years  all  the 
glory  of  England  would  depart,  all  your  merchandise  would 
soon  be  taken  from  you,  and  this  great  and  powerful  nation 
would  become  a  poor  helpless  province." 

This  form  of  concession,  or  permission,  in  which  the 
concession  is  made,  and  its  evil  consequences  are  imme- 
diately pointed  out,  is  often  very  effective.  An  instance 
from  Vinet,  the  Chalmers  of  Switzerland : 

"  The  Gospel,  we  will  say  to  its  enemies,  is,  then,  an  absurd- 
ity; you  have  discovered  it.  But  behold  what  a  new  species 
of  absurdity  that  certainly  is,  which  attaches  man  to  all  his  du- 
ties ;  regulates  human  life, better  than  all  the  doctrines  of  sages; 
plants  in  his  bosom  harmony,  order,  and  peace;  causes  him  joy- 
fully to  fulfill  all  the  offices  of  civil  life ;  renders  him  better  fit- 
ted to  live,  better  fitted  to  die;  and  which,  were  it  generally 
received,  would  be  the  support  and  safeguard  of  society.  If 
these  things  have  not  entered  the  heart  of  man,  it  is  not  be- 
cause they  are  absurd,  but  because  they  are  divine." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  415 

Nowhere  can  a  more  lively  and  beautiful  example  of 
this  figure  be  found  than  that  given  by  the  woman  of 
Canaan  in  the  Gospel.  Christ,  to  provoke  her  humility 
and  her  persevering  trust  into  exercise,  had  said  to  her : 

"It  is  not  meet  to  take  the  children's  bread  and  cast  it  to 
the  dogs." 

To  which  her  reply  was : 

"  Truth,  Lord ;  yet  the  dogs  eat  of  the  crumbs  that  fall  from 
their  master's  table." 

For  once  Jesus  was  refuted,  and  that  by  his  own  figure; 
and  he  wished  to  be  refuted.  "  Truth,  Lord ;"  there 
was  the  concession.  An  instance,  too,  of  the  fact,  one 
that  enters  deep  into  the  nature  of  figurative  language, 
that  often  the  best  figures  are  uttered  by  those  who  are 
thinking  least  about  them,  they  being  struck  out  by  a 
glow  of  mind.  Yet,  if  you  have  made  yourself  very 
familiar  with  them,  your  familiar  knowledge  of  fig- 
ures is  sure  to  put  all  manner  of  weapons  rhetorical 
into  the  hand  of  your  passion,  without  aught  of  the  far- 
fetched and  the  artificial ;  just  as  a  thorough  skater 
moves  over  the  ice  inartificially. 

The  Rev.  John  Angell  James,  a  writer  of  great  elo- 
quence and  refinement,  eminent  advocate  he  of  the  re- 
ligion of  the  heart,  has  the  subjoined : 

"  Eternal  things !  Do  you  believe  them  ?  If  not,  abjure 
your  creed;  abandon  your  belief.  Be  consistent,  and  let  the 
stupendous  vision  which,  like  Jacob's  ladder,  rests  its  foot  on 
earth  and  places  its  top  in  heaven,  vanish  in  thin  air." 

CLII.  Prohibition  deserves  a  place :  the  utter  forbid- 
ding a  thing,  as  not  to  be  done  at  all,  when  all  that  is 
meant  is  that  while  it  should  be  done,  something  else 
is  far  more  urgent.  Luke  xxiii.,  27,  28.  A  figure  so 
genuine ;  dictate  of  a  mind  much  impassioned  !  Take  a 
form  of  it,  more  simple,  from  John  Chrysostom,  renowned 


41 6         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Patriarch  of  Constantinople,  "  the  Homer  of  orators/' 
whose  was  "a  tongue  flowing  like  the  Nile:" 

"  Tell  me  not  of  grief,  nor  of  the  intolerable  nature  of  your 
calamity.  Rather  consider  how,  in  the  midst  of  bitter  sorrow, 
you  may  rise  superior  to  it." 

Read  his  excellent  sermon  on  "  Excessive  Grief  at  the 
Death  of  Friends." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  417 


CHAPTER   XXI. 

FIGURES    OF    RHETORIC. 
PART    SIXTEENTH. 

Indirect  Statement,  or  Coverture,  or  Gentle  Hint. — Specifi- 
cation.— Plurals.  —  Optation,  or  Wish. — Anaccenosis.— 
Supposition. — Isolation.  —  Unification. — Assumption  of 
Agreement.  — Pretended  A  ssent.  — Interpolation .  —  Cata- 
chresis.  — A  nacoluthon.  — Affirmative  Negation.  — Nega- 
tive Affirmation.  — Community.  — Proprietorship.  — Pro- 
lepsis  or  Procatalepsis. 

CLIII.  INDIRECT  STATEMENT,  or  Coverture,  or  The 
Gentle  Hint,  is  the  name  that  may  be  given  to  a  weap- 
on of  speech  that  many  times  can  be  used  with  mighty 
effect ;  often  when  open  statement  would  involve  the 
speaker  in  personal  danger.  It  is  covert  praise  or  blame ; 
menace  or  hope.  Lord  Chatham  had  quoted  Lord  Som- 
ers  and  Chief-Justice  Holt,  on  certain  points  of  law, 
against  Lord  Mansfield ;  and  drew  their  characters  in 
masterly  style ;  he  then  pronounced  them  "  honest  men, 
who  knew  and  loved  the  Constitution,"  laying  much 
stress  on  the  important  term  "  honest."  Then,  turning 
to  Mansfield,  he  said : 

"  I  vow  I  think  the  noble  lord  equals  them  both — in  abilities." 

Then,  complaining  of  the  motion  he  was  opposing  being 
pushed  by  Lords  Marchmont  and  Mansfield  at  so  un- 
seasonable an  hour,  it  was  after  midnight,  he  cried : 

"  If  the  Constitution  must  be  wounded,  let  it  not  receive  its 
DD 


4i 8          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

mortal  stab  at  this  dark  and  midnight  hour,  when  honest  men 
are  asleep  in  their  beds,  and  when  only  felons  and  assassins 
are  seeking  for  prey  !" 

Coverture  is  often  the  best  way  of  reminding  people 
of  their  duty,  and  of  asking  a  favor.  An  indirect  state- 
ment sets  the  hearer's  mind  pleasantly  at  work  to  fill  up 
for  itself  the  facts  that  are  referred  to,  while  there  may 
be  a  compliment,  also,  to  our  historical  or  other  infor- 
mation. In  a  speech  to  his  constituents  at  Liverpool, 
March  18,  1820,  George  Canning  refers  to  the  following 
resolution  of  the  House  of  Commons  of  1648 — previous 
to  the  war  against  Charles  I.,  and  his  death  on  the  scaf- 
fold: 

"Resolved,  that  whatsoever  is  enacted  and  declared  law  by 
the  Commons  assembled  in  Parliament  hath  the  force  of  law, 
although  the  consent  of  the  king  and  House  of  Peers  be  not 
had  thereto." 

On  this,  Canning  thus  commented : 

"Such  was  the  theory;  the  practical  inferences  were  not 
tardy  in  their  arrival  after  the  theory.  In  a  few  weeks  the 
House  of  Peers  was  voted  useless.  We  all  know  what  became 
of  the  Crown." 

But  no  instance  of  indirect  statement  will  be  more  ad- 
mired by  American  readers  than  that  renowned  one  of 
the  eloquent  patriot,  Patrick  Henry,  in  1765.  In  the 
debate  introduced  by  him  in  the  House  of  Burgesses  in 
Virginia,  on  the  Stamp  Act,  he  exclaimed,  in  a  voice  of 
thunder: 

"  Caesar  had  his  Brutus,  Charles  the  First  his  Cromwell ; 
and  George  the  Third  "—  "  Treason  !"  cried  the  Speaker ; 
"  Treason  !  treason !"  echoed  from  every  part  of  the  House. 
Henry  faltered  not  for  an  instant ;  but,  rising  to  a  loftier  atti- 
tude, and  fixing  an  eye  of  determined  fire  on  the  Speaker,  he 
finished  his  sentence  with  the  firmest  emphasis — "  may  profit 
by  their  example.  If  this  be  treason,  make  the  most  of  it." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  419 

In  Everett's  oration  on  Webster,  at  the  inauguration 
of  the  Webster  statue  in  Boston,  September  17,  1859,  he 
had  these  words : 

"  Do  you  ask  if  he  had  faults  ?     I  answer,  he  was  a  man." 

An  indirect  way  at  once  of  admitting  his  faults  and  apol- 
ogizing for  them.  But  it  is  in  Shakespeare's  "  King 
John"  you  will  find  the  example  that  can  not  be  sur- 
passed. Taking  it  for  granted  that  every  student  of  this 
volume  has  a  Shakespeare  in  his  hands,  we  refer  him  to 
"  King  John,"  act  iii.,  scene  iii.  Or  mark  the  repartee  of 
the  Spanish  embassador  to  Henry  the  Fourth  of  France, 
as  given  in  Tully's  "  Memoirs."  The  king  was  boasting 
that  he  would  go  to  breakfast  at  Milan,  hear  mass  at 
Rome,  and  dine  at  Naples ;  the  embassador  answered : 

"  Sire,  if  your  Majesty  go  so  fast,  perhaps  you  may  go  to 
vespers  in  Sicily." 

Every  reader  has  history  enough  to  understand  the  allu- 
sion, to  a  great  slaughter  perpetrated  on  the  French. 

.  From  Miss  Strickland's  valuable  work,  "  The  Queens 
of  England,"  we  obtain  this,  from  volume  vii.,  chapter 
ix.  Sir  Walter  Raleigh  was  staying  at  the  house  of  a 
great  lady  in  the  west  of  England,  who  was  a  notable 
housewife,  and  before  she  made  a  grand  appearance  at 
dinner,  she  arranged  all  matters  in  her  household.  Sir 
Walter's  apartment  was  next  to  hers,  and  he  became  pri- 
vate to  much  of  her  management.  Early  in  the  morn- 
ing he  heard  her  demand  of  one  of  her  maids,  "  Are  the 
pigs  served?"  Just  before  dinner  she  entered  with  in- 
finite state  the  great  chamber  where  her  guests  were 
met,  when  Sir  Walter  asked : 

"  Madam,  are  the  pigs  served  ?" 
The  lady  answered,  with  undiminished  dignity, 
"You  know  best  whether  you  have  had  your  breakfast." 


420         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

CLIV.  Specification  of  Details  is  often  a  figure  giving 
strength  to  a  speaker.  We  pray  you  to  form  your  opin- 
ion on  Victor  Hugo's  latest  sample,  in  his  last  novel— 
"  Ninety-Three."  Lawyers  and  ministers,  study  the  fol- 
lowing, of  June,  1793: 

"  It  was  about  eight  o'clock  in  the  evening.    There  was  still 
some  light  in  the  street,  but  the  room  was  dark,  and  a  lamp 
hanging  from  the  ceiling  threw  a  dim  glimmer  on  the  table. 
The  first  of  these  three  men  was  pale,  young,  grave,  with  thin 
lips  and  a  cold  look.     A  nervous  twitch  in  the  cheek  must 
have  spoiled  his  attempts  to  smile.    He  was  powdered,  gloved, 
brushed,  and  buttoned.     There  was  not  a  crease  in  his  bright 
blue  coat.    He  wore  nankeen  trousers,  white  stockings,  a  frilled 
shirt,  and  shoes  with  silver  buckles.     The  two  other  men  were 
— one,  a  kind  of  giant ;  the  other,  a  kind  of  dwarf.     The  tall 
man,  negligently  dressed  in  a  vast  coat  of  scarlet  cloth,  his  neck 
bare,  his  untied  cravat  falling  lower  than  the  frill,  his  waistcoat 
open,  with  many  buttons  missing,  wore  top-boots,  and  his  hair 
was  straight  and  in  disorder,  although  it  revealed  traces  of 
dressing  and  care.     There  was  something  of  a  mane  about  it. 
His  face  was  pock-marked;  he  had  an  angry  wrinkle  between 
the  eyebrows,  and  an  expression  of  kindness  at  the  corner  of 
the  lips;  thick  lips,  large  teeth,  a  bargeman's  fist,  a  luminous 
eye.     The  dwarf  was  a  yellowish  man,  who,  seated,  seemed  de- 
formed ;  his  head  was  thrown  backward ;  his  eyes  were  blood- 
shot; his  face  was  covered  with  livid  patches;  a  handkerchief 
was  tied  over  his  greasy  and  flat  hair.    No  forehead;  an  enor- 
mous and  terrible  mouth.     He  wore   ordinary  trousers,  slip- 
pers, and  a  waistcoat  which  looked  as  if  it  were  of  white  satin ; 
and  over  this  waistcoat  a  jacket,  in  the  folds  of  which  a  hard 
and  straight  line  revealed  a  poniard.     The  first  of  these  men 
was  named  Robespierre,  the  second  Danton,  the  third  Marat. 
They  were  alone  in  the  room.    There  was  a  glass  and  a  bottle 
of  wine  before  Danton,  a  cup  of  coffee  before  Marat,  and  a 
heap  of  papers  before  Robespierre.     A  map  of  France  was 
stretched  out  on  the  table." 

In  the  magnificent  speech  by  him,  on  the  Nabob  of 
Arcot's  debts,  February  28,  1785,  which  Lord  Brougham 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  42 1 

has  pronounced  "  by  far  the  first  of  all  Mr.  Burke's  ora- 
tions," he  had  spoken  of  Hyder  Ali's  horse  as  "  a  whirl- 
wind of  cavalry;"  then,  farther  on,  he  individualized,  by 
mentioning  the  impoverished  state  of  the  country,  the 
Carnatic — 

"  Even  before  an  enemy's  horse  had  imprinted  his  hoof  on 
the  soil  of  the  Carnatic." 

The  individual  war-horse  here  specified,  what  vividness 
does  it  not  give  to  the  description  !  If  we  would  write 
or  speak  vividly,  we  must  escape  from  generalities  to 
specific  objects  and  incidents  ;  and  in  nothing  can  genius 
or  taste  or  the  tact  of  the  heart  be  more  clearly  shown, 
than  in  choosing  such  individual  things  as  suit  best. 
Mark  particularly  the  external  objects  which  Jesus  uses 
in  his  parables. 

You  have  a  little  touch  of  individualization  in  such  an 
example  as  this : 

"  Your  course  has  been  wrong,  from  the  lowest  foundation 
stone  to  the  turret  stone ;" 

or  in  Napoleon's  frequent  saying: 

"  The  ball  that  is  to  hit  me  has  not  yet  been  cast  -" 

or  as  when  William  Arthur,  in  his  book  "  Italy  in  Tran- 
sition"— all  his  works  are  interesting  and  instructive — 
says: 

"  Massa  is  about  as  stupid  a  little  town  as  post-horses  were 
ever  changed  at." 

This  figure  is  a  wondrous  contrast  to  indistinctness. 
What  variety  of  war-gear  language  hath ! 

"If  you  wished,"  says  Curran,  "to  convey  to  the  mind  of  an 
English  matron  the  horrors  of  that  period  when  our  poor  peo- 
ple were  surrendered  to  the  brutality  of  the  soldiery  by  the 
authority  of  the  state,  you  would  vainly  attempt  to  give  her  a 
general  picture  of  rapine  and  murder  and  conflagration.  But 
endeavoring  to  comprehend  every  thing,  you  would  convey 


422          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

nothing..  When  the  father  of  poetry  wishes  to  portray  the 
movements  of  contending  armies  and  an  embattled  field,  he 
exemplifies,  he  does  not  describe.  So  should  your  story  to  her 
keep  clear  of  generalities.  You  should  take  a  cottage,  and 
place  the  affrighted  mother  with  her  orphan  daughters  at  the 
door,  the  paleness  of  death  in  her  face,  and  more  than  its  ag- 
onies in  her  heart — her  aching  heart;  her  anxious  ear  struggling 
through  the  mist  of  closing  day  to  catch  the  approaches  of  deso- 
lation and  dishonor.  The  ruffian  gang  arrives;  the  feast  of 
plunder  begins ;  the  cup  of  madness  kindles  in  its  circulation. 
You  need  not  dilate — you  need  not  expatiate;  the  matron  to 
whom  you  tell  the  story  of  horror  beseeches  you  not  to  proceed ; 
she  presses  her  child  to  her  heart — she  drowns  it  in  her  tears ; 
her  fancy  catches  more  than  an  angel's  tongue  could  describe." 

Mark  here  the  wonderful  skill  in  the  twofold  individuali- 
zation :  in  the  story  told,  and  in  the  listener  to  it. 

The  renowned  passage  in  Sterne's  "  Sentimental  Jour- 
ney "  must  needs  be  subjoined  here : 

"  I  began  to  figure  to  myself  the  miseries  of  confinement.  I 
was  going  to  begin  with  the  millions  of  my  fellow-creatures 
born  to  no  inheritance  but  slavery;  but  finding,  however  affect- 
ing the  picture  was,  that  I  could  not  bring  it  near  me,  and  that 
the  multitude  of  sad  groups  in  it  did  but  distract  me — I  took  a 
single  captive ;  and  having  first  shut  him  up  in  his  dungeon,  I 
then  looked  through  the  twilight  of  his  grated  door  to  take  his 
picture. 

"  I  beheld  his  body  half  wasted  away  with  long  expectation 
and  confinement,  and  felt  what  kind  of  sickness  of  the  heart  it 
was  which  arises  from  hope  deferred.  Upon  looking  nearer,  I 
saw  him  pale  and  feverish ;  in  thirty  years  the  western  breezes 
had  not  once  fanned  his  blood ;  he  had  seen  no  sun,  no  moon, 
in  all  that  time,  nor  had  the  voice  of  friend  or  kinsman  breathed 
through  his  lattice.  But  here  my  heart  began  to  bleed,  and  I 
was  forced  to  go  on  with  another  part  of  the  portrait. 

"  He  was  sitting  upon  the  ground  upon  a  little  straw  in  the 
farthest  corner  of  his  dungeon,  which  was  alternately  his  chair 
and  bed;  a  little  calendar  of  small  sticks  was  laid  at  his  head, 
notched  all  over  with  the  dismal  days  and  nights  he  had  passed 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  423 

there ;  he  had  one  of  these  little  sticks  in  his  hand,  and  with 
a  rusty  nail  he  was  etching  another  day  of  misery  to  add  to  the 
heap.  As  I  darkened  the  little  light  he  had,  he  lifted  up  a 
hopeless  eye  -toward  the  door,  then  cast  his  eyes  down,  shook 
his  head,  and  went  on  with  his  work  of  affliction.  I  heard  his 
chains  upon  his  legs,  as  he  turned  his  body  to  lay  his  little  stick 
upon  the  bundle.  He  gave  a  deep  sigh.  I  saw  the  iron  enter 
into  his  soul.  I  burst  into  tears.  I  could  not  sustain  the  pict- 
ure which  my  fancy  had  drawn." 

There  are  turns  of  expression  here  which  we  can  scarce- 
ly persuade  ourselves  that  we  have  not  been  long  famil- 
iar with  in  Scripture — the  highest  eulogy  that  can  be 
paid  to  any  form  of  words.  Cleanse  the  "  Sentimental 
Journey"  of  its  frequent  grossness,  and  it  would  deserve 
its  immortality.  But  every  now  and  then  the  angel 
changes  into  the  brute.  O  for  a  truly  judicious  ex- 
purgator  of  Chaucer,  Shakespeare,  Congreve,  Vanburgh, 
Sterne,  and  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  classics. 

Saurin,  in  the  subjoined,  individualizes  in  every  sen- 
tence : 

"  The  tomb  is  the  best  course  of  morality.  Study  avarice  in 
the  coffin  of  a  miser.  See  a  few  boards  inclose  him,  and  a  few 
square  inches  of  earth  contain  him.  Study  ambition  in  the 
grave  of  that  man  of  enterprise.  Approach  the  tomb  of  the 
proud  man.  See  the  mouth  that  pronounced  lofty  expressions 
condemned  to  eternal  silence;  the  piercing  eyes  that  convulsed 
the  world  with  fear,  covered  with  a  midnight  gloom ;  the  for- 
midable arm  that  distributed  the  destinies  of  mankind,  without 
motion  and  life." 

Dr.  George  W.  Bethune,  in  his  very  valuable  posthu- 
mous "  Lectures  on  the  Heidelberg  Catechism,"  has  the 
following  sentence,  that  owes  much  of  its  vividness  to 
the  last  specification.  He  is  speaking  of  human  de- 
pravity : 

"  Every  where  we  see  symptoms  of  this  depravity ;  every 
where  men  make  laws  to  guard  against  it;  every  penal  statute. 


424          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

every  gibbet,  every  prison,  every  lock  on  our  doors,  testify  to 
man's  belief  that  his  fellow-man  is  prone  to  hate  man  and  his 
neighbor." 

Very  frequently  pathos  lies  in  the  details  specified,  as 
in  the  oft-quoted  words  of  Webster's  "  Duchess  of  Malfi," 
just  as  she  goes  to  her  death.  Mark  very  carefully  how 
commonplace  the  details  are ;  how  characteristic  of  the 
nursery,  and  of  a  good  mother's  tender  cares : 

"Farewell,  Cariola; 

I  pray  thee  look  thou  givest  my  little  boy 
Some  sirup  for  his  cold ;  and  let  the  girl 
Say  her  prayers  ere  she  sleep.     Now,  what  you  please  ! 
What,  death  ?" 

If  ever  you  would  move  men's  hearts,  you  must  study 
this  pathos  of  the  minute;  your  own  heart  and  expe- 
rience must  teach  you  where  to  find  your  details.  Look 
for  them  in  the  simplest  points  of  unaffected  and  very 
homely  life  and  scenery.  In  this  how  wonderfully  strong 
is  Scripture:  I  Sam.  ii.,  19;  2  Sam.  xii.,  34;  xiv.,  7,  14; 
Matt,  xxiv.,  17,  1 8 ;  xxv.,  35-44;  Luke  xi.,  5-8  ;  xiv.,  18- 
20,31;  xvi.,  24;  xvii.,  34-36;  Zech.  viii.,  5. 

In  no  portion  of  our  literature  can  you  better  study 
this  pathos  of  the  minute  than  in  that  inimitable  de- 
partment, our  ballad  poetry,  as  you  will  meet  with  it  in 
Percy's  "  Reliques,"  Sir  Walter  Scott's  "  Border  Min- 
strelsy," and  elsewhere.  It  is  a  valuable  and  instructive 
incident  that  when  Lady  Anne  Bernard  was  writing  her 
"  Auld  Robin  Grey,"  and  her  whole  stock  of  pathetic 
points  was  exhausted,  she  recited  what  she  had  com- 
posed to  the  junior  members  of  the  family,  and  asked 
them  what  she  could  add ;  when  one  of  the  youngest,  a 
mere  child,  cried  out,  "  Mak'  somebody  steal  the  coo ;" 
which  she  did. 

Boyd,  in  his  valuable  notes  on  P.  L.,  gives  this  critique 
on  iv.,  196: 

"  The  cormorant  is  a  voracious  sea-bird.    Dr.  George  Camp- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  425 

bell  remarks  that  if  for  '  cormorant '  Milton  had  said  '  bird  of 
prey,'  which  would  have  equally  suited  both  the  meaning  and 
the  measure,  the  image  would  have  been  weaker  than  by  this 
specification.  The  more  general  your  terms  are,  the  picture  is 
the  weaker;  the  more  special  they  are,  it  is  the  brighter." 

See  S., "  Cymbeline,"  act  ii.,  scene  ii.,  lachimo's  speech, 
line  28;  act  iv.,  scene  ii.,  Belarius's  i8th  speech,  line  45. 
"  Lear/'  act  in.,  scene  ii.,  Lear's  wondrous  2d  speech ; 
scene  vi.,  Lear's  8th  speech.  "  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  act 
v.,  scene  iii.,  the  Friar's  1st  speech,  lines  1,2.  "  Hamlet," 
act  i.,  scene  i.,  Francisco's  5th  speech.  "  Henry  IV.," 
part  ii.,  act  ii.,  scene  i.,  Hostess's  I3th  speech. 

CLV.  Plurals.  The  use  of  plurals,  figuratively,  may 
be  put  in  here,  as  a  separate  and  exceedingly  admirable 
usage.  As  when  one  was  speaking  of  "  the  glory  of  the 
sunrisings  and  the  roseate  flushing  of  sunsets." 

CLVI.  Optation,  or  Wish,  is  very  natural  in  an  aroused 
state  of  mind.  Chatham,  in  the  close  of  his  speech 
against  the  quartering  of  soldiers  on  the  people  of  Bos- 
ton, carries  optation  up  into  the  sacredness  of  prayer. 
It  was  on  May  27,  1774: 

"  I  will  venture  to  declare  that  the  period  is  not  far  distant 
when  my  country  will  want  the  assistance  of  her  most  distant 
friends.  Length  of  days  be  in  her  right  hand,  and  in  her  left 
riches  and  honor;  may  her  ways  be  ways  of  pleasantness,  and 
all  her  paths  be  peace  !" 

In  a  ludicrous  way,  again,  we  have  optation  in  the  cry 
of  the  fat  monk,  Panurge,  in  Rabelais ;  who,  in  a  storm 
at  sea,  threatened  by  a  briny  doom,  longs  for  dry  land, 
which  would  turn  things  naturally  inconvenient  to  bless- 
ings ;  and  so  he  exclaims  right  earnestly, 

"Would  I  were  on  shore,  and  somebody  kicking  me." 

The  orator  at  times  wishes  that  the  point  he  has  pow- 
erfully proven,  were  not  proven.  In  the  Second  against 
Philip,  we  find  the  following : 


426         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  I  could  wish  I  were  not  conjecturing  aright.  But  I  fear 
that  the  event  is  much  nearer  than  even  what  I  said." 

Then  at  the  close  of  that  speech : 

"  O  all  ye  gods,  let  it  not  be  that  the  event  shall  have  been 
foretold  only  too  accurately  !" 

CLVII.  Anacoenosis  is  the  applying  to  an  opponent, 
or  to  the  hearer,  for  his  opinion.  The  Duke  of  Bedford, 
the  hero  of  Junius's  malignant  but  immortal  letter, 
had  been  horsewhipped  by  a  country  attorney.  When 
George  III.  heard  that  Sir  Edward  Hawke  had  given  the 
French  a  drubbing,  his  majesty  asked  Lord  Chesterfield 
the  meaning  of  the  word  : 

"  Sire,"  said  Lord  Chesterfield,  "  the  meaning  of  the  word 
'  drubbing ' — but  here  comes  the  Duke  of  Bedford,  who  is  better 
able  to  explain  it  to  your  Majesty  than  I  am." 

Every  student  of  the  powers  of  language  will  recall  to 
mind  Paul's  use  of  this  animated  figure  in  his  defense 
before  Agrippa : 

"  The  king  knoweth  of  these  things,  before  whom  I  speak 
freely ;  for  I  am  persuaded  that  none  of  these  things  are  hid- 
den from  him ;  for  this  thing  was  not  done  in  a  corner.  King 
Agrippa,  believest  thou  the  prophets  ?  I  know  that  thou  be- 
lie vest." 

Mai.  i.,  6;  Isa.  v.,  3,4;  Jer.  xxiii.,  23  ;  Acts  iv.,  19;   I  Cor. 
iv.,  21 ;  Gal.  iv.,  21. 

Dr.  Griffin  thus  asks  the  audience  to  decide: 

"  Say  now,  pronounce,  is  not  the  object  worthy  of  all  the 
means  employed  for  its  attainment  ?  Do  you  hesitate  ?  Look, 
and  think  again." 

In  the  same  discourse,  "  On  Christ's  Kingdom  :" 

"  Let  me  never  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  man  who,  while 
he  refuses  to  aid  the  missionary  efforts  of  his  brethren,  coolly 
says  that  he  submits  the  fate  of  the  heathen  to  God.  Do  you 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  427 

call  this  submission  ?  Put  it  to  the  test;  does  it  preserve  you 
equally  composed  by  the  bed  of  your  dying  child?" 

Why,  the  Holy  Scripture  should  not  only  be  nobly 
read  from  the  rostrum,  but,  first,  three  or  four  times  at 
home  by  the  minister.  Garrick,  the  great  actor,  once 
said  to  a  clergyman : 

"  What  books  were  those  that  you  used  this  morning  in  read- 
ing the  service?" — "Books?"  rejoined  the  clergyman;  "the 
Bible  and  Prayer-book."— "Ah,"  said  Garrick;  "I  observed 
that  you  handled  them  as  if  they  were  a  ledger  and  day-book." 

We  quote  from  Gould's  excellent  lecture  on  Clerical  Elo- 
cution, in  his  "  Good  English."  Let  our  ministers  arouse 
them,  too,  to  the  grand  historical  fact  that,  if  they  wish 
to  make  a  sensation,  there  is  nothing  so  good  for  that  as 
the  plain,  pure,  earnest  Gospel — no  ritual  a  match  for 
that ;  such  as  New  York  crowds  hasten  out  to,  when 
they  go  to  hear  Dr.  Hall.  We  are  starving  for  lack  of  the 
Bible,  twice  every  Sunday,  grandly  read ;  and  of  great 
preaching  of  the  old-fashioned  sort.  Blessed,  also,  is  the 
preacher,  of  whose  ability  we  think  not,  but  by  whose 
theme  we  are  absorbed — and  by  the  humbling  sense  of 
our  own  wickedness. 

CLVIII.  Supposition,  the  bringing  forward  a  supposed 
case  as  an  illustration  of  the  actual  one,  or  the  treating 
of  the  actual  case  as  if  it  were  merely  supposed,  is  a  form 
of  expression  that  has  often  been  used  with  good  effect ; 
of  which  we  have  a  noted  instance  in  that  justly  famous 
letter  of  Junius  to  the  king: 

"  There  is  a  moment  of  difficulty  and  danger,  at  which  flat- 
tery and  falsehood  can  no  longer  deceive,  and  simplicity  itself 
can  no  longer  be  misled.  Let  us  suppose  it  arrived.  Let  us 
suppose  a  gracious,  well-intentioned  prince  made  sensible  at 
last  of  the  great  duty  he  owes  to  his  people  and  of  his  own  dis- 
graceful situation ;  that  he  looks  around  him  for  assistance, 
and  asks  for  no  advice  but  how  to  gratify  the  wishes  and  se- 
cure the  happiness  of  his  subjects.  In  these  circumstances  it 


428          Might  and  Mirth  of  Liter alure. 

may  be  matter  of  curious  speculation  to  consider,  if  an  honest 
man  were  permitted  to  approach  a  king,  in  what  terms  he  would 
address  himself  to  his  sovereign." 

The  writings  of  the  eminently  pious  Dr.  Payson  pre- 
sent many  examples,  as  thus,  in  which  magnetic  philos- 
ophy is  used  in  Christ's  work : 

"  Suppose  you  wished  to  separate  a  quantity  of  brass  and 
steel  filings,  how  would  you  effect  the  separation  ?  Apply  a 
loadstone,  and  immediately  every  particle  of  iron  will  attach 
itself  to  it,  while  the  brass  filings  remain  behind.  Thus  if  we 
see  a  company  of  true  and  false  professors  of  religion,  we  may 
not  be  able  to  distinguish  between  them ;  but  let  Christ  come 
among  them,  and  all  His  sincere  followers  will  be  attracted  to- 
ward Him,  while  those  who  have  none  of  His  spirit  remain  at 
a  distance." 

Again,  to  a  mother  bereft  of  a  child,  he  said : 

"  Suppose  some  one  was  making  a  beautiful  crown  for  you 
to  wear.  Now  if  the  maker  of  it,  in  order  to  make  it  more 
splendid,  were  to  take  some  of  your  jewels  to  put  into  it,  should 
you  be  sorry  because  they  were  taken  from  you  for  a  little, 
when  you  knew  they  were  to  make  up  your  crown?" 

Let  this  figure  be  much  cultivated  by  the  pulpit  ora- 
tor. He  who  can,  for  a  year,  not  once  put  a  single  sup- 
position into  eighty  sermons  of  his,  deserves  the  title 
of  "  Solemn  Stupidity."  To  neglect  this  figure  is  inde- 
fensible. 

CLIX.  Isolation  must  not  be  confounded  with  any 
other  figure ;  for  it  means  the  isolating  of  an  individual 
addressed,  who  is  separated  from  all  others ;  the  putting 
him  apart,  so  that  the  orator  may  deal  with  his  single 
soul ;  or  so  that  the  man  himself  may  deal  with  him- 
self, while  he  feels  that  he  is  alone  with  his  conscience 
and  with  his  God.  TKus,  in  Paul's  words,  in  Rom.  ii.,  I : 

"Therefore  thou  art  inexcusable,  O  man,  whosoever  thou 
art  that  judgest :  for  wherein  thou  judgest  another,  thou  con- 
demnest  thyself;  for  thou  that  judgest  doest  the  same  things." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  429 

For  purposes  of  conviction,  when  you  endeavor  to 
bury  some  barbed  arrow  of  alarm  or  accusation  deep  in 
some  single  bosom,  this  figure  is  invaluable.  The  un- 
approachable triumvirate  of  the  French  pulpit  are  Bos- 
suet,  Bourdaloue,  and  Massillon ;  on  this  occasion  let 
Massillon  speak ;  let  him  isolate  each  of  us ;  for  it  was 
to  him  the  Grand  Monarch  said :  "  Father,  I  have  heard 
many  great  orators  in  this  chapel,  and  have  been  highly 
pleased  with  them  ;  but  whenever  I  hear  you,  I  go  away 
displeased  with  myself,  for  I  see  my  own  character." 
When  Massillon  was  drawing  near  the  close  of  the  ser- 
mon from  which  we  are  now  to  quote,  the  whole  congre- 
gation started  to  their  feet,  interrupting  him  by  their 
exclamations  of  terror  and  despair : 

"  I  confine  myself  to  you  who  are  now  here  assembled.  I 
include  not  the  rest  of  men ;  but  consider  you  as  alone  exist- 
ing on  the  earth.  The  idea  which  fills  and  terrifies  me  is  this : 
I  figure  to  myself  the  present  as  your  last  hour,  and  the  end 
of  the  world ;  the  heavens  opening  above  your  heads  j  the 
Saviour  in  all  His  glory  about  to  appear  in  the  midst  of  His 
temple  ;  you  only  assembled  here  as  trembling  criminals  to 
await  His  coming,  and  hear  the  sentence — each,  either  of  life 
eternal  or  of  everlasting  death.  Which  of  you  would  not  im- 
mediately apply  to  his  conscience,  to  examine  if  his  crimes  mer- 
ited not  eternal  punishment — which  of  you,  seized  with  dread, 
would  not  demand  of  our  Saviour,  as  did  the  apostles,  crying 
out,  '  Lord,  is  it  I  ?'  Does  this  danger  affect  you  not,  my  dear 
hearer  ?  You  persuade  yourself  that  in  this  great  number  who 
shall  perish,  you  will  be  the  happy  individual !  You  who  have 
less  reason,  perhaps,  than  any  other  to  believe  it." 

Jonathan  Edwards  is  continually  isolating  hearer  by 
hearer.  Thus  closes  he  his  awful  sermon,  "  Sinners  in 
the  hands  of  an  angry  God :" 

"There  is  reason  to  think  that  there  are  many  in  this  con- 
gregation now  hearing  this  discourse  that  will  actually  be  the 
subjects  of  this  very  misery  to  all  eternity.  We  know  not  who 
they  are,  or  in  what  Seats  they  sit,  or  what  thoughts  they  now 


430          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

have.  If  we  knew  that  there  was  one  person,  and  but  one,  in 
the  whole  congregation,  that  was  to  be  the  subject  of  this  mis- 
ery, what  an  awful  thing  it  would  be  to  think  of.  If  we  knew 
who  it  was,  what  an  awful  sight  it  would  be  to  see  such  a  per- 
son !  But,  alas  !  instead  of  one,  how  many,  is  it  likely,  will  re- 
member this  discourse  in  hell !" 

In  the  oration  on  the  Crown,  our  darling  model,  De- 
mosthenes, frequently  singles  out  ^Eschines : 

"  You  being  there  on  the  spot  and  at  the  moment,  and  see- 
ing me  deprive  the  state  of  such  an  opportunity  and  such  an 
alliance  as  you  now,  in  long  detail  and  in  swelling,  tragic  phrase, 
tell  us  of,  is  it  the  case,  that  you  expressed  your  indignation  ? 
Or  being  a  spectator  of  these  doings  of  mine  which  now  you 
brand,  did  you  make  bare,  did  you  expose  them  ?  And  most 
certainly  if  I  had  wrought  with  Philip  to  hinder  the  union  of 
the  Greeks,  it  was  your  part  not  to  keep  silence;  but  to  cry 
aloud,  to  testify  with  all  earnestness,  and  to  make  my  guilt 
plain  to  these  your  fellow-citizens.  But  no  such  thing  did  you 
ever  do.  That  voice  of  yours  no  one  heard." 

Our  study  of  this  figure  brings  us  to  this  conclusion, 
that  in  the  Christian  pulpit  we  are  convinced  of  what  is 
the  greatest  aim  of  eloquence:  a  great  thing  to  convince 
the  judgment ;  a  great  thing  to  delight  the  tasteful  and 
the  poetic ;  but  highest  of  all,  to  convict  the  conscience. 
That  is  the  highest  sort  of  sermon ;  and  to  display  God 
and  Christ ;  to  teach  humility ;  to  make  us  capable  of 
true  repentance. 

CLX.  Unification,  the  bringing  forward  as  one  in- 
stance, is  a  figure  never  enumerated  before.  We  have 
not  succeeded  in  naming  it  felicitously.  An  example 
will  make  it  perfectly  plain.  Our  marvelous  Shake- 
speare helps  us,  speaking,  of  Henry  the  Fifth : 

"And  therefore  in  fierce  tempest  is  he  coming, 
In  thunder  and  in  earthquake,  like  a  Jove." 

How  much  better  than  if  he  had  said,  "  like  Jove."  So, 
again,  a  midnight  camp,  previous  to  a*  battle,  is  before  us : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  431 

"  The  armorers,  accomplishing  the  knights, 
With  dint  of  hammer  closing  rivet  up, 
Give  dreadful,  note  of  preparation." 

How  much  finer  than  "  dints,"  "  hammers/'  "  rivets," 
"  notes."     Mark  this  very  carefully. 

CLXI.  Assumption  of  Agreement  on  the  part  of  your 
hearer  or  opponent  is  a  frequent  usage.  Erskine,  in  his 
speech  for  Stockdale,  thus  expressed  himself: 

"Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  I  observe  plainly,  and  with  infinite 
satisfaction,  that  you  are  shocked  and  offended  at  my  even 
supposing  it  possible  you  should  pronounce  such  a  detestable 
judgment." 

Or  take  an  illustration  from  the  splendid  oratorical  ca- 
reer of  John  Philpot  Curran.  Lord  Avonmore,  an  old 
college  companion  of  his,  was  on  the  bench ;  one  who 
had  been  a  member  of  a  certain  joyous  college  club  along 
with  Curran.  Curran  expressed  the  hope  that  the  deci- 
sion of  the  court  would  be  favorable : 

"  This  soothing  hope  I  draw  from  the  dearest  and  tenderest 
recollections  of  my  life;  from  the  remembrance  of  those  Attic 
nights  which  we  have  spent  with  those  admired,  respected,  be- 
loved companions  who  have  gone  before  us;  over  whose  ashes 
the  most  precious  tears  of  Ireland  have  been  shed.  [Here 
Lord  A.  could  not  refrain  from  tears.]  Yes,  my  good  lord,  I  see 
you  do  not  forget  them.  I  see  their  sacred  forms  passing  in 
sad  review  before  your  memory." 

We  find  this  figure  frequent  in  Demosthenes : 

"You  can  not  think  so.     You  remember!     You  are  well 


It  suits  the  Christian  pulpit,  where  the  speaker  ought 
to  be  constantly  appealing  to  conscience  even  more  than 
either  to  feeling  or  intellect  or  fine  taste.  In  the  Chris- 
tians Sabbath  Companion  are  these  sentences : 

"  What  an  individual  would  forthwith  do,  but  for  want  of  op- 


432          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

portunity,  hazard  of  detection,  or  fear  of  punishment,  that  is 
what  shows  his  true  character.  You  admit  that  statement, 
surely  ?  I  see  that  some  of  you  feel  .how  much  it  condemns 
you.  I  see  that  some  of  you  are  honest  enough  to  take  it 
home." 

CLXII.  Pretended  Assent,  a  figure  never  named  be- 
fore, is  different  from  the  above ;  being  your  own  pre- 
tended, not  actual  assent,  not  that  of  your  hearer  or  op- 
ponent. In  S.'s  "  Macbeth,"  act  i.,  scene  ii.,  the  Soldier's 
3d  speech,  a  clear  instance  occurs  of  this  very  peculiar 
figure : 

"Duncan.  Dismay'd  not  this 

Our  captains,  Macbeth  and  Banquo  ? 

"Soldier.  Yes; 

As  sparrows,  eagles;  or  the  hare,  the  lion." 

CLXIII.  Interpolation,  the  sudden  throwing  in  of 
some  explanatory  or  enforcing  circumstance ;  as  it  is 
natural  in  earnest,  onward  hurrying  states  of  the  mind, 
so  does  it  suit  the  warmest  moods  of  eloquence.  Shake- 
speare, by  the  lips  of  Antonio,  speaking  of  Shylock,  will 
give  us  an  instance :  remember  to  study  Shakespeare  for 
oratory  quite  as  much  as  for  poesy : 

"  You  may  as  well  forbid  the  mountain  pines 
To  wag  their  high  tops,  and  to  make  no  noise, 
When  they  are  fretted  with  the  gusts  of  heaven ; 
You  may  as  well  do  any  thing  most  hard, 
As  seek  to  soften  that  (than  which  what's  harder  ?) — 
His  Jewish  heart." 

"  Cymbeline,"  act  v.,  scene  v.,  lachimo's  4th  speech,  and 
5th. 

St.  Paul  makes  frequent  use  of  this  form  of  writing ; 
as  thus: 

"  Unto  the  Jews  became  I  as  a  Jew,  that  I  might  gain  the 
Jews ;  to  them  that  are  under  the  law,  as  under  the  law,  that  I 
might  gain  them  that  are  under  the  law ;  to  them  that  are  with- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  433 

out  law,  as  without  law  (being  not  without  law  to  God,  but  un- 
der the  law  to  Christ),  that  I  might  gain  them  that  are  without 
law." 

Let  us  treat  you  to  one  of  the  noblest  sentences 
in  our  language — occurring  in  Mackintosh's  speech  for 
Peltier — containing  a  beautiful  interpolation  near  the 
close: 

"  Let  me  suppose,  gentlemen,  that  Aloys  Reding,  who  has 
displayed  in  our  times  the  simplicity,  magnanimity,  and  piety 
of  ancient  heroes,  had,  after  his  glorious  struggle,  honored  this 
kingdom  by  choosing  it  as  his  refuge;  that,  after  performing 
prodigies  of  valor  at  the  head  of  his  handful  of  heroic  peasants 
on  the  field  of  Morgarten,  where  his  ancestor,  the  Landman 
Reding,  had,  five  hundred  years  before,  defeated  the  first  op- 
pressors of  Switzerland,  he  had  selected  this  country  to  be  the 
residence  as  the  chosen  abode  of  liberty,  as  the  ancient  and 
inviolable  asylum  of  the  oppressed,  would  my  learned  friend 
have  had  the  boldness  to  have  said  to  this  hero  that  he  must 
hide  his  tears  (the  tears  shed  by  a  hero  over  the  ruins  of  his 
country !),  lest  they  might  provoke  the  resentment  of  Reubell 
or  Rapinat?  that  he  must  smother  the  sorrow  and  the  anger 
with  which  his  heart  was  overloaded?  that  he  must  breathe  his 
murmurs  low,  lest  they  might  be  overheard  by  the  oppressor  ?" 

Do  not  let  escape  here  the  mighty  Saxon  force  of  sar- 
casm in  the  word  "  low  " — "  he  must  breathe  his  mur- 
murs low !" 

From  the  First  Philippic  of  Demosthenes  we  glean 
the  following — the  commencement  of  a  paragraph : 

"  First,  I  say  that  the  infantry — but  how  to  prevent  you  from 
doing  that  which  has  often  injured  you !  Your  thinking  that 
the  occasion  demands  far  less  than  it  does  demand — your  se- 
lecting the  grandest  plans  in  your  decrees,  while  in  execution 
you  make  not  the  paltriest  exertion." 

In  a  humorous  way,  we  find  in  Fielding's  "  Covent 
Garden  Tragedy,"  acted  in  Drury  Lane  Theatre  in  1732, 
the  following  promises  by  a  lady  to  a  gentleman : 

E  E  " 


434         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  A  joint  of  meat  a  day  is  all  I  ask, 
And  that  I'll  dress  myself.     A  pot  of  beer 
When  thou  din'st  from  me,  shall  be  all  my  wine ; 
Few  clothes  I'll  have,  and  those,  too,  second-hand ; 
Then  when  a  hole  within  thy  stocking's  seen 
(For  stockings  will  have  holes),  I'll  darn  it  for  thee." 

CLXIV.  Catachresis  itself  deserves  to  be  catalogued 
as  a  legitimate  form  of  speech :  a  metaphor  that  borders 
on  impropriety,  or  seems  to  confound  the  nature  of 
things ;  a  breaking  loose  into  a  bad  construction  such  as 
grammar  forbids ;  lawful  when  it  arises  from  a  crowd  of 
thoughts  clouding  the  right  construction  out  of  sight,  or 
from  warmth  of  emotion  rendering  the  speaker  all  un- 
mindful of  Lindley  Murray  or  Gould  Brown.  We  speak 
of  a  silver  candlestick  ;  Horace  writes  of  children  riding 
on  horseback  on  a  long  reed ;  Moses  tells  us  of  the  blood 
of  the  grape.  The  reader  has  a  certain  delight  in  seeing 
the  bands  of  syntax  thrown  off  now  and  then,  and  the 
reins  cast  wild,  on  the  neck  of  the  steed  wilder  than  of 
the  Ukraine.  Thus  in  a  letter  by  Henry  Ward  Beecher 
on  occasion  of  a  dinner  to  George  Law : 

"  Those  who  develop  commerce — building  clippers  so  fleet 
as  to  put  the  winds  out  of  breath  in  keeping  up  with  them; 
steamships  that  empty  towns,  and  bear  their  population  round 
the  globe  to  found  new  cities  in  a  day;  immense  engines  that 
in  the  face  of  storms  and  waves  roll  round  the  ponderous  wheel 
with  the  constancy  of  the  earth  upon  its  axis ;  the  benefits  of 
such  services  are  not  confined  to  the  sea,  or  to  the  commercial 
cities  that  wash  their  feet  by  the  sea-side." 

Mr.  Fox's  well-known  saying  is  in  excellent  accord 
with  the  good  effect  and  breezy  freedom  of  catachresis : 

"  Did  the  speech  read  well  when  reported  ?  If  so,  it  was  a 
bad  one." 

An  air  of  extemporaneousness,  the  absence  of  all  ap- 
pearance of  art,  a  noble  forgetfulness  of  minute  verbal 
points,  is  often  delightful  in  an  impetuous  address,  espe- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  435 

cially  when  we  feel  it  to  be  crowded  with  great  thoughts. 
Such  may  be  called  the  Philosophy  of  the  Ungrammat- 
ical.  "  Cymbeline,"  act  iv.,  scene  ii.,  Arviragus's  i8th 
speech,  line  6;  "  Hamlet,"  act  i.,  scene  ii.,  Hamlet's  I4th 
speech  ;  act  i.,  scene  iv.,  lines  30-36 ;  Lev.  xxvi.,  30 ;  Deut. 
xxxii.,  14;  Psa.  Ixxx.,  5  ;  Hos.  xiv.,  2  ;  i  Cor.  i.,  25  ;  Matt. 
xi.,  31,32. 

CLXV.  Anacoluthon  may  be  catalogued  as  a  species 
of  catachresis:  such  a  change  in  the  construction  as  in- 
volves bad  grammar ;  as  when  in  S.,  "  Henry  V.,"  in  his 
speech  to  his  soldiers,  cries : 

"  Rather,  proclaim  it,  Westmoreland,  through  my  host, 
That  he  who  hath  no  stomach  to  this  fight, 
Let  him  depart ;  his  passport  shall  be  made — 
We  would  not  die  in  that  man's  company." 

"  Tempest,"  act  i.,  scene  ii.,  Prospero's  3d  and  loth 
speech. 

CLXVI.  Affirmative  Negation  affirms  by  negatives, 
the  contrast  adding  pungency.  Let  Junius,  acrid,  and 
in  the  highest  degree  able,  present  to  us  an  instance : 

"  When  our  gracious  sovereign  ascended  the  throne,  we  were 
a  flourishing  and  contented  people.  If  the  personal  virtues  of 
a  king  could  have  insured  the  happiness  of  his  subjects,  the 
scene  would  not  have  altered  so  entirely  as  it  has  done.  The 
idea  of  uniting  all  parties,  of  trying  all  characters,  and  dis- 
tributing the  offices  of  state  by  rotation,  was  gracious  and  be- 
nevolent to  an  extreme,  though  it  has  not  yet  produced  the 
many  salutary  effects  which  were  intended  by  it.  To  say  noth- 
ing of  the  wisdom  of  such  a  plan,  it  undoubtedly  arose  from  an 
unbounded  goodness  of  heart  in  which  folly  had  no  share.  It 
was  not  a  capricious  partiality  to  new  faces ;  it  was  not  a  nat- 
ural turn  for  low  intrigue;  nor  was  it  the  treacherous  amuse- 
ment of  double  and  triple  negotiations.  No,  sir,  it  arose  from 
a  continued  anxiety  in  the  purest  of  all  possible  hearts  for  the 
general  welfare." 

Alice  Gary  contrives,-  while  not  enumerating,  to  enu- 


436          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

merate;  and  makes  us  feel  how  deeply  emphatic  that 
one  circumstance  is,  which  immeasurably  more  impresses 
her  than  even  those  items  which  she  rules  off 

"  Among  the  beautiful  pictures 

That  hang  on  Memory's  wall, 
Is  one  of  a  dim,  old  forest, 

That  seemeth  best  of  all ; 
Not  for  its  gnarled  oaks  olden, 

Dark  with  the  mistletoe ; 
Not  for  the  violets  golden 

That  sprinkle  the  vale  below. 

"  Not  for  the  milk-white  lilies, 

That  lean  from  the  fragrant  ledge, 
Coquetting  all  day  with  the  sunbeams, 

And  stealing  their  golden  edge ; 
Not  for  the  vines  on  the  upland, 

Where  the  bright  red  berries  rest, 
Nor  the  pinks,  nor  the  pale,  sweet  cowslip, 

It  seemeth  to  me  the  best. 

"  I  once  had  a  little  brother, 

With  eyes  that  were  dark  and  deep; 

In  the  lap  of  that  old,  dim  forest, 
He  lieth  in  peace  asleep. 

Therefore  of  all  the  pictures 

•  That  hang  on  Memory's  wall, 

The  one  of  the  dim,  old  forest, 
Seemeth  the  best  of  all." 

CLXVII.  Negative  Affirmation  is  the  exact  opposite 
of  the  last  named :  a  denying  by  affirmatives.  You  can 
not  contrast  these  twain  without  having  a  deeper  im- 
pression of  the  wondrous  flexibility  of  God's  miracle — 
language.  From  Saxe  cull  we  an  example  of  college 
days: 

"  I  recollect  those  harsh  affairs, 

The  morning  bells  that  gave  us  panics ; 
I  recollect  the  formal  prayers, 

That  seemed  like  lessons  in  mechanics. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  437 

I  recollect  the  drowsy  way 

In  which  the  students  listened  to  them, 
As  clearly,  in  my  wig,  to-day 

As  when  a  boy  I  slumber'd  through  them. 
I  recollect  the  tutors  all 

As  freshly  now,  if  I  may  say  so, 
As  any  chapter  I  recall 

In  Homer,  or  Ovidius  Naso." 

Some  of  us  comprehend  how  little  of  such  Greek  or 
Latin  we  now  recall. 

CLXVIII.  Community  is  that  figure  which  makes  the 
pleader  and  his  client  one,  or  the  speaker  and  his  au- 
dience. Thus  Paul,  in  Rom.  xiii.,  13,  where  the  apostle 
supposes  himself  and  the  common  believers  to  whom  he 
was  writing  to  be  exposed  to  the  same  perils,  and  draw- 
ing near  to  the  same  crisis  of  departure  and  of  doom. 
Thus  the  Pulpit-Demosthenes  wins  a  way  for  his  rebukes 
and  warnings  into  our  hearts  and  wills  by  using  the  pro- 
noun "  we  "  and  "  us  "  instead  of"  you  ;"  and  we  feel  that 
he  who  speaks  from  the  sacred  desk  hath  the  same  hard 
battle  to  fight  that  we  have ;  is  attacked  by  the  same 
dread  temptations;  hath  the  same  downward  tendencies; 
that  he  arrogates  to  himself  no  cold,  proud  superiority. 

CLXIX.  Proprietorship,  a  newly  catalogued  figure — it 
may  be  not  very  well  named — consists  in  calling  a  thing 
"yours"  or  "ours,"  or  by  some  possessive  pronoun  or 
other,  when  the  only  ownership  we  have  in  it  lies  in  the 
interest  the  heart  takes  in  it.  Your  author  supplies  an 
instance : 

How  weak  thy  light  to  guide,  mere  Intellect ! 

When  the  great  central  moral  truths  are  gone, 
Unable  grossest  falsehoods  to  detect; 

Religion,  Conscience,  Social  Rule,  o'erthrown  ! 
For  useless  even  the  eagle's  potent  eye 
When  sun  and  stars  are  clouded  in  the  sky. 
Ye  worship  Intellect  ?    Your  Caesars  are 
Nothing  to  Lucifer. 


438          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

There  lies  a  certain  charm  in  "  your,"  which  we  can  not 
describe  or  analyze,  yet  which  is  quite  perceptible. 

CLXX.  Prolepsis,  or  CLXXI.  Procatalepsis,  is  the  pre- 
supposing of  the  adversary's  arguments,  and  the  refut- 
ing of  them  beforehand.  The  story  told  of  Harry  Ers- 
kine,  brother  of  Thomas,  the  great  Lord  Erskine,  de- 
serves attention.  Harry  Erskine  mistook,  on  one  occa- 
sion, the  side  for  which  he  was  retained;  he  rose  and 
addressed  the  jury  with  great  force  against  his  client. 
That  anxious  personage  writhed  with  alarm  and  aston- 
ishment ;  at  length,  as  the  erring  advocate  was  about  re- 
suming his  seat,  the  client  succeeded  in  getting  a  note 
put  into  his  hands,  telling  him  he  had  been  arguing  on 
the  wrong  side.  Without  the  slightest  embarrassment, 
he  turned  to  the  jury,  and  said : 

"  Gentlemen,  such  are  the  arguments  which  the  speaker  on 
the  other  side  will  address  to  you.  I  shall  now  show  you  how 
worthless  they  are." 

He  then  tore  to  pieces  all  the  reasoning  he  had  brought 
forward. 

As  usual,  abundant  cases  occur  in  the  Bible  :  Isa.  xlix., 
14;  Rom.  ix.,  19;  i  Cor.  xv.,  35-39.  De  la  Rue,  in  the 
pathetic  rhetoric  of  his  wonderful  sermon,  "  The  Dying 
Sinner,"  supplies  us  with  the  following: 

"At  death,  say  you,  reason  will  exert  its  strength;  it  will 
come  forth  from  the  tomb,  when  man  shall  be  just  entering  into 
it ;  its  light  will  awaken  him  when  life  is  almost  extinguished. 
Think,  O  think  of  the  embarrassments  which  then  beset  rea- 


This  figure  is  most  powerful  when  the  hearer  is 
brought  forward  as  in  the  above,  stating  the  objection 
in  his  own  words.  Yet  how  seldom  do  we  hear  this  or 
almost  any  of  the  more  daring  and  heroic  figures  from 
some  pulpits  ?  Is  there  no  longer  any  electricity  in  yon 
thunder -clouds  around  Christ's  throne,  to  be  flashed 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  439 

thence  into  the  heart  and  style  of  his  embassadors  ? 
What  a  thing  the  pulpit  is  fit  to  be  !  It  is  capable,  anew 
and  anew,  of  regaining,  more  and  more  widely,  its  an- 
cient coruscations  !  How,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  is  it — 
how,  in  the  name  of  disgrace,  does  it  happen,  that  the 
Scripture  is  so  often  miserably  read  ?  No  part  of  Church 
ritual  is  more  heart-arousing,  more  epic,  more  like  the 
roll  of  thunders  among  mountains,  than  the  suitable 
reading  of  the  Word  ! 


440          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

FIGURES   OF  RHETORIC. 

PART    SEVENTEENTH. 

Self-substitution.  — Retort. — Conversion.  —  The  Prosaic.  — 
Indirection. — Oratorical  Syllepsis. — A  ttitude. — Epipho- 
nema,  or  Oracular  Summing-up. — Abbreviation. — Hen- 
diadys,  or  Splitting  into  Two. — Antonomasia. — Alliter- 
ation, or  Homceopropheron. — Poetic  Forms. 

CLXXII.  SELF-SUBSTITUTION  is  the  name  that  may 
be  given  to  a  figure  highly  valuable :  the  asking  the 
hearer  to  place  himself  in  the  circumstances  you  de- 
scribe ;  most  suitable  to  the  pulpit.  De  la  Rue,  point- 
ing to  a  death-bed,  cries : 

"  Imagine  this  to  be  your  case !" 

Dr.  Griffin  supplies  a  fine  example : 

"  Place  your  soul  in  his  soul's  stead  !  Or,  rather,  consent 
for  a  moment  to  change  condition  with  the  savages  on  our  bor- 
ders. Were  you  posting  on  to  the  judgment  of  the  great  day, 
in  the  darkness  and  pollution  of  pagan  idolatry,  and  were  they 
living  in  wealth  in  this  very  district  of  the  Church,  how  hard 
would  it  seem  for  your  neighbors  to  neglect  your  misery.  When 
you  should  open  your  eyes  in  the  eternal  world,  and  discover 
the  ruin  in  which  they  had  suffered  you  to  remain,  how  would 
you  reproach  them  that  they  did  not  even  sell  their  possessions, 
if  no  other  means  were  sufficient,  to  send  the  Gospel  to  you  !" 

CLXXIII.  Retort  is  a  mode  of  expression  of  great  in- 
terest :  the  taking  an  adversary's  argument  or  witticism 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  441 

the  contrary  way,  turning  it  round,  showing  that  it  proves 
against  him.  It  was  a  favorite  mode  with  Mr.  Pitt.  In 
his  speech  for  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade,  April  2, 
1792,  he  had  to  combat  the  objection  that  its  abolition 
by  Great  Britain  would  do  little  good  if  it  were  retained 
by  other  countries,  as  was  likely  to  be  the  case : 

"  Let  us  wait  therefore,  on  prudential  principles,  till  they  join 
us,  or  set  us  an  example." 

He  thus  replied : 

"But,  sir,  does  not  this  argument  apply  a  thousand  times 
more  strongly  in  a  contrary  way  ?  How  much  more  justly  may 
other  nations  point  to  us,  and  say,  'Why  should  we  abolish  the 
slave-trade,  when  Great  Britain  has  not  abolished  it  ?  Britain, 
free  as  she  is,  just  and  honorable  as  she  is,  and  deeply  also  in- 
volved as  she  is  in  this  commerce  above  all  nations,  not  only 
has  not  abolished,  but  has  refused  to  abolish.  She  has  inves- 
tigated it  well;  she  has  gained  the  completest  insight  into  its 
nature  and  effects ;  she  has  collected  volumes  of  evidence  on 
every  branch  of  the  subject.  Her  Senate  has  deliberated — has 
deliberated  again  and  again ;  but  what  is  the  result  ?  She  has 
gravely  and  solemnly  determined  to  sanction  the  slave-trade.' " 

CLXXIV.  Conversion  is  of  kin  to  retort.  Under  this 
figure  might  be  placed  that  bold  statement  which  De- 
mosthenes puts  in  the  very  commencement  of  his  First 
against  Philip : 

"  First,  then,  O  men  of  Athens,  these  our  affairs  must  not  be 
despaired  of;  no,  not  even  though  they  seem  altogether  de- 
plorable ;  for  the  most  shocking  circumstance  of  all  our  past 
conduct  is  itself  the  most  favorable  to  our  expectations  in  the 
future.  What,  then,  is  this  ?  That  our  affairs  are  in  ruin,  mere- 
ly from  our  utter  neglect  of  our  most  urgent  duties.  But  were 
we  thus  distressed,  in  spite  of  all  vigorous  efforts,  then  would 
our  condition  be  hopeless." 

You  perceive  from  this  instance  that  by  conversion  is 
meant  the  turning  an  objection  into  a  proof — an  argu- 
ment against  into  an  argument  for.  But  let  us  beware 


442          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

lest  we  pass  from  our  domain  of  figures  and  rhetoric  into 
the  domain  of  logic.  Matt,  xv.,  21-28. 

Pass  on,  therefore,  to  a  species  of  conversion  strictly 
rhetorical,  when  some  old  form  of  words,  by  a  change, 
gives  us  a  vivid  surprise.  Rogers,  the  poet  and  banker, 
was  a  person  of  very  cadaverous  ugliness  of  face ;  of  a 
portrait  of  him  by  Maclise,  one  said: 

"  It  is  a  mortal  likeness,  done  to  the  death." 
Mark  the  change  or  twist  perpetrated  on  the  old  ex- 
pression, "  Done  to  the  life."  Or  suppose  one  in  the 
pulpit,  instead  of  saying,  in  the  well-known  language  of 
Paul,  "  The  sting  of  death  is  sin,"  were  to  convert  it  into 
this,  "The  sting  of  hell  is  sin,"  he  would  thus,  in  a  live- 
ly way,  express  the  great  truth  that  the  hell-fires  the 
most  to  dread  are  crimes,  ^Etna-heavy.  It  is  evident 
that  under  this  figure  many  fine  flashes  of  feeling  and  of 
argument  may  be  ranged.  Gonsalvo  turned  a  disaster 
into  an  omen  of  good,  when  in  one  of  his  Italian  bat- 
tles his  powder-magazine  was  blown  up  by  the  enemy's 
first  discharge.  His  soldiers,  smitten  by  panic,  were  turn- 
ing to  flee  ;  with  the  cry,  he  rallied  them— 

"  My  brave  men,  the  victory  is  ours  !  Heaven  tells  us,  by  this 
signal,  that  we  shall  have  no  farther  need  of  our  artillery." 

So  the  expressions  "Good-night!"  "Good-morning!" 
are  commonplace  enough ;  but  in  how  elevated  a  sense 
are  they  used  in  the  following  instance  of  conversion,  by 
Mrs.  Barbauld : 

"  Life  !  we  have  been  long  together, 
Through  pleasant  and  through  cloudy  weather. 
'Tis  hard  to  part  when  friends  are  dear, 
Perhaps  'twill  cost  a  sigh,  a  tear ; 

Then  steal  away,  give  little  warning, 
Choose  thine  own  time ; 
Say  not  good-night;  but  in  that  happier  clime 

Bid  me  good-morning  /" 

CLXXV.  The  Prosaic  turned  to  a  poetical  use  is  de- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  443 

lightful,  for  it  comes  with  the  effect  of  surprise.    William 
Robert  Spencer  favors  you  with  a  pleasant  example : 

"  If  the  stock  of  our  bliss  is  in  stranger  hands  vested, 

The  fund,  ill-secured,  oft  in  bankruptcy  ends; 
But  the  heart  issues  bills  which  are  never  protested, 

When  drawn  on  the  firm  of — wife,  children,  and  friends." 

This  gives  us  a  surprise  such  as  when,  under  the  rough 
rind  of  the  cocoa-nut,  we  find  the  fresh  milk. 

Gay,  in  his  "  Shepherd's  Week,"  brings  in,  successfully, 
real  rural  manners ;  ridiculing  Ambrose  Philips,  whose 
shepherds  were  merely  those  of  the  drawing-room.  Gay's 
"  Lobbin  Clout,"  approaches  real  life  much  more  nearly; 
as  in  his  first  pastoral,  "  the  Squabble :" 

"  Leek  to  the  Welsh,  to  Dutchmen  butter's  dear, 
Of  Irish  swains  potato  is  the  cheer ; 
Oat  for  their  feasts  the  Scottish  shepherds  grind, 
Sweet  turnips  are  the  food  of  Blouzelind. 
While  she  loves  turnips,  butter  I'll  despise 
Nor  leeks,  nor  oatmeal,  nor  potato  prize." 

CLXXVI.  Indirection,  never  before  catalogued,  is  a 
form  of  turning  aside,  when  the  question  or  difficulty  of 
the  opposite  party  meets  no  direct  reply,  yet  is  replied 
to  or  removed  more  effectually  than  it  could  have  been 
by  almost  any  direct  statement.  Of  this  fine  figure  our 
Saviour,  so  divinely  dexterous  in  so  many  a  figure,  fur- 
nishes a  beautiful  instance  in  Luke  xv.,  21  : 

"The  son  said  unto  him,  Father,  I  have  sinned  against  heaven, 
and  in  thy  sight,  and  am  no  more  worthy  to  be  called  thy  son." 

The  father  is  far  beyond  waiting  to  reply : 

"Ah,  my  dearest,  no  question  such  as  that  can  my  heart 
coldly  discuss,  or  think  of  it  at  all.  Saved  from  shipwreck,  you 
are  a  thousand  times  a  son.  Haste,  every  one  in  this  house, 
now  blessed  of  God  !  Bring  forth  the  best  robe,  ye  my  serv- 
ants, and  put  it  on  him." 

See  John  vi.,  25,  26. 


444         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

CLXXVII.  Oratorical  Syllepsis  must  next  be  enumer- 
ated :  a  very  delicate,  beautiful  figure  when  happily  used ; 
consisting  in  the  employing  of  a  word  in  two  different 
senses  at  once,  the  one  literal,  the  other  figurative.  Lear 
says  of  one  of  his  daughters : 

"  Turn  all  her  mother's  pains  and  benefits 
To  laughter  and  contempt,  that  she  may  feel 
How  sharper  than  a  serpent's  tooth  it  is 
To  have  a  thankless  child." 

The  serpent's  tooth  is  literally  sharp ;  a  child's  ingrati- 
tude is  figuratively  sharp;  the  adjective  "sharper"  in 
this  passage  denotes  both  kinds  of  sharpness  at  once — 
that  which  wounds  the  flesh,  and  that  which  tears  the 
soul.  The  First  Philippic  gives  us  a  fine  example : 

"  If  we  send  out  galleys  empty  of  munition,  and  empty  hopes 
given  us  by  some  paltry  orator,  think  ye  that  all  will  be  well  ?" 

Here  the  empty  galleys  were  to  be  sent  out  against 
Philip  literally,  and  the  empty  hopes  figuratively.  Soon 
after,  our  prince  of  orators  returns  to  this  figure : 

"  When  you  send  forth  against  the  enemy  a  general,  and  an 
empty  decree  and  hopes  from  the  declaimer's  platform,  noth- 
ing happens  to  you  of  the  things  you  need." 

CLXXVIII.  Attitude  is  the  name  that  may  be  given 
to  a  usage  of  speech  which,  when  employed  in  modera- 
tion, is  lively  and  effective.  What  we  mean  is,  the  intro- 
duction of  words  expressive  of  attitudes  of  the  body, 
other  than  the  pointing  with  the  finger  or  indication  ;  to 
which  it  is  allied ;  and  not  the  same  at  all  as  outward  il- 
lustration. Thus  Byron  writes : 

"  Such  is  the  aspect  of  this  shore ; 
'Tis  Greece,  but  living  Greece  no  more  ! 
So  coldly  sweet,  so  deadly  fair, 
We  start,  for  soul  is  wanting  there  !" 

All  expressions  such  as  can  not  be  done  justice  to,  ex- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  445 

cept  by  throwing  the  body  into  some  attitude,  fall  un- 
der this  head ;  as  when,  speaking  of  some  famous  indi- 
vidual whom  you  knew  in  early  life,  you  say,  proudly, 
"  I  knew  him  when  he  was  so  high !"  whereupon  it  be- 
hooves to  elevate  the  outspread  palms,  knowingly,  to  the 
proper  altitude.  What  a  thrilling  example,  when  the 
apostle  of  the  Gentiles  cried : 

"These  hands  have  ministered  to  my  necessities." 

Yet  the  best  thing  may  be  outraged ;  as  did  he,  this  fig- 
ure, who  waved  the  skirt  of  his  coat  toward  the  audience 
on  reciting  Addison's  lines : 

"  Soon  as  the  evening  shades  prevail, 
The  moon  takes  up  the  wondrous  tale  (tail)." 

The  idea  that  mere  attitude  has  much  force  is  a  child- 
ish mistake.  Almost  every  hearer  sees  through  the  trick. 
We  have  seen  a  preacher  act  admirably  Abraham's  feel- 
ing Isaac's  breast  for  the  seat  of  life,  that  one  stroke 
might  be  enough,  and  uplifting  the  knife  in  his  hand ; 
but  unfortunately  the  orator  attitudinized  so  cleverly  the 
first  time,  that  he  could  not  resist  the  temptation  to  repeat 
the  scene.  He  enjoyed  the  slaying  of  Isaac,  whatever* 
Abraham  did.  A  speaker  has  been  seen,  when  speaking 
of  a  child  in  its  cradle,  to  divide  off  with  his  hands  in  the 
air  a  space  about  the  size  of  a  cradle.  Another,  speak- 
ing of  the  place  of  woe,  usually  stepped  back  in  the  pul- 
pit, and  looked  down  with  horror.  But  when  Garrick,  » 
on  delivering  Lord  Lyttelton's  prologue  to  Thomson's 
"  Caractacus  " — the  author  of  the  "  Seasons  "  had  died 
shortly  before — shed  genuine  tears,  and  made  a  pause 
which  evidently  his  heart  dictated,  the  effect  on  the  au- 
dience was  irresistible : 

"  He  loved  his  friends — forgive  this  gushing  tear ! 
Alas  !  I  feel  I  am  no  actor  here." 

Mark,  too,  the  action  required  by  John  Clare,  the  won- 
derful Northamptonshire  peasant : 


446          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Though  low  my  lot,  my  wish  is  won, 

My  hopes  are  few  and  staid ; 
All  I  thought  life  would  do,  is  done, 

The  last  request  is  made. 
If  I  have  foes,  no  foes  I  fear, 

To  God  I  live  resigned ; 
I  have  a  friend  I  value  here, 

And  that's  a  quiet  mind." 

The  admirers  of  the  first  Napoleon,  overlooking  his 
coarse  selfishness  and  the  blood  he  lavished,  will  recog- 
nize an  impressive  epic  attitude  on  his  part,  when,  on 
his  return  from  Elba,  and  on  approaching  the  regiment 
stationed  at  Grenoble,  the  officers  in  command  gave  the 
order  to  fire.  Advancing  within  ten  steps  of  the  lev- 
eled muskets,  he  bared  his  breast,  and  said: 

"  Soldiers  of  the  Fifth  Regiment,  if  there  is  one  among  you 
who  would  kill  his  emperor,  let  him  do  it — here  I  am." 

The  regiment  was  instantly  at  his  feet. 

Willingly  we  turn  from  this  despot,  false  to  truth,  to 
a  far  nobler  man,  Algernon  Sidney,  most  foully  con- 
demned to  death,  in  1683,  by  the  loathsome  Jeffreys. 
When  the  ferocious  judge  pronounced  sentence,  Alger- 
non nobly  said : . 

"Then,  O  God,  I  beseech  Thee  to  sanctify  these  sufferings 
unto  me,  to  impute  not  my  blood  to  the  country,  nor  to  the 
city  through  which  I  am  to  be  drawn.  Let  no  inquisition  be 
made  for  it;  but  if  any,  and  if  the  shedding  of  blood  that  is 
innocent  must  be  revenged,  let  the  weight  of  it  fall  only  upon 
those  that  maliciously  persecute  me  for  righteousness'  sake." 

Jeffreys  replied : 

"  I  pray  God  work  in  you  a  temper  fit  to  go  into  the  other 
world;  for  I  see  you  are  not  fit  for  this." 

Then  the  Colonel,  stretching  out  his  arm,  cried : 

"  My  lord,  feel  my  pulse,  and  see  if  I  am  disordered.  I  bless 
God,  I  never  was  in  better  temper  than  I  am  now." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  447 

We  strongly  recommend  his  "  Discourse  concerning 
Governments,"  as  most  admirable  for  its  style  and  for 
its  argument ;  a  book  the  world  should  not  let  die ;  a 
book  that  should  ever  be  dear  to  all  lovers  of  freedom. 

We  hesitate  to  mention  here  the  most  dread,  sublime, 
pathetic  attitude  that  men  or  angels  have  ever  seen  ;  our 
admiration  should  perhaps  be  stifled  by  our  awe — we  al- 
lude to  the  attitude  of  our  Saviour  on  the  Cross.  It  is 
thus  referred  to  by  Bishop  Joseph  Hall,  whose  works, 
teeming  with  thoughts  and  figures,  especially  that  mas- 
terpiece, his  "  Meditations,"  are  most  deserving  of  re- 
peated perusal: 

"  See  Him  stretching  out  His  arms  to  receive  and  embrace 
you ;  hanging  down  His  head  to  take  view  of  your  misery ; 
opening  His  precious  side  to  receive  you  into  His  bosom ; 
pouring  from  his  heart  water  to  wash  you,  and  blood  to  redeem 
you!" 

With  the  attitudes  of  the  younger  Pitt  in  the  House  of 
Commons  while  Erskine  was  making  his  maiden  speech 
there  were,  to  be  sure,  no  words  mingled,  but  the  atti- 
tudes were  a  very  effective  speech.  We  quote  from 
Croly's  "  Life  of  George  IV. :" 

"Pitt,  evidently  intending  to  reply,  sat  with  pen  and. paper 
in  his  hand,  preparing  to  catch  the  arguments  of  his  formidable 
adversary.  He  wrote  a  word  or  two.  Erskine  proceeded ;  but 
with  every  additional  sentence  Pitt's  attention  to  the  paper  re- 
laxed, his  look  became  more  careless,  and  he  obviously  began 
to  think  the  orator  less  and  less  worthy  of  his  attention.  At 
length,  while  every  eye  in  the  house  was  fixed  upon  him,  with 
a  contemptuous  smile  he  dashed  the  pen  through  the  paper, 
and  flung  them  on  the  floor.  Erskine  never  recovered  from 
this  expression  of  disdain  ;  his  voice  faltered,  he  struggled 
through  the  remainder  of  his  speech,  and  sank  into  his  seat, 
dispirited  and  shorn  of  his  fame." 

Mark  Sir  Walter's  reference,  all  unthinking  of  attitude, 
to  his  position  at  the  moment.  He  said  on  his  death- 
bed to  his  son-in-law : 


448          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature 

"  Lockhart,  I  may  have  but  a  minute  to  speak  to  you.  My 
dear,  be  a  good  man — be  virtuous,  be  religious — be  a  good  man. 
Nothing  else  will  give  you  any  comfort 'when  you  come  to  lie 
here." 

That  is  an  attitude  which  we  all  must  use.  May  a 
Christian  life  make  it  grand  and  eloquent. 

CLXXIX.  Epiphonema — oracular  summing  up,  an  in- 
structive remark  at  the  end — is  abundantly  illustrated  in 
Scripture:  see  Acts  xix.,  18,  20;  Judges  ix.,  56.  From 
Milton  we  quote  four  lines  : 

"This  saw  his  hapless  foes;  but  stood  objured, 
And  to  rebellious  fight  rallied  their  powers, 
Insensate,  hope  conceiving  from  despair; — 
In  heavenly  spirits  could  such  perverseness  dwell  ?" 

"Hamlet,"  act  i.,  scene  ii.,  Hamlet's  6th  speech,  line  18; 
"  Winter's  Tale,"  act  ii.,  scene  i.,  Leontes's  2d  speech, 
lines  4-10. 

Summation  must  come  in  always  at  the  end  of  the 
sentence,  and  be  much  more  than  the  mere  closing  of 
the  statement :  it  must  possess  a  certain  oracular  weight 
and  tone ; .  it  must  announce  some  conclusion  that  has 
become  axiomatic  and  needs  proof  no  longer;  the  many 
details  must  be  gathered  into  .one,  like  many  lightnings 
into  one  thunderbolt.  It  suits  the  pulpit  well;  where 
the  great  truths  of  heaven  and  of  home  may  often,  nay, 
should  often,  be  taken  for  granted ;  verities  which  when 
left  to  clear  for  themselves  their  own  way  without  proof 
are  then  many  a  time  the  best  proven.  The  Gospel  its 
own  witness !  Stand  back,  frequently,  O  preacher ;  leave 
the  cry  of  God  and  the  aroused  conscience  alone  with 
each  other.  Let  them  wrestle  there  alone  on  this  mys- 
tic, sad,  Peniel  of  the  heart.  Carlyle  and  the  great  Ger- 
man, Richter,  deal  much  in  genuine  epiphonemas;  as 
when  the  latter  exclaims : 

"  Were  there  no  longer  any  thing  inexplicable,  I  would  no 
longer  care  to  live — either  here  or  hereafter." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  449 

Or  we  hear  Schiller  cry  of  Art,  truly  skillful : 
"Art  is  the  right  hand  of  Nature." 

From  Burke,  the  magnificent,  wise,  and  copious,  let  us 
republicans  take  one  summation — a  truth  indispensable 
in  a  republic ;  our  country  will  be  scourged  into  it : 

"Men  are  qualified  for  civil  liberty  in  exact  proportion  to 
their  disposition  to  put  moral  chains  upon  their  own  appe- 
tites. .  .  .  Society  can  not  exist  unless  a  controlling  power  upon 
will  and  appetite  be  placed  somewhere;  and  the  less  of  it  there 
is  within,  the  more  there  must  be  without.  It  is  ordained  in 
the  eternal  constitution  of  things,  that  men  of  intemperate  minds 
can  not  be  free.  Their  passions  forge  their  fetters." 

Grant  to  us  now  one  other  indulgence — of  availing 
ourselves  of  our  familiarity  with  the  noble  and  melodious 
Spanish  literature.  We  translate  from  Calderon,  his 
"  Green  and  Blue,"  where  Worship  accepts  not  her  high- 
est name,  yet  one  of  her  pleasantest  names : 

"  Green !     Tis  the  fairy  garb  of  spring 
With  million  dew-drops  glistening; 
Lo !  every  fountain,  every  stream, 
Margin'd  with  this  fair  livery,  gleam ; 
The  bright  hill-side,  the  leafy  shade, 
Are  in  this  pleasant  garb  arrayed ; 
And  the  broad  oak's  majestic  head 
With  emerald  is  garlanded. 
The  shimmering  moonbeams  softly  fall 
On  ivied  green  of  castle  wall ; 
All  summer's  flowers  of  varied  tint, 
And  graceful  form,  are  cradled  in't, 
Till  fostering  sunbeams  call  them  forth 
To  twinkle  as  the  stars  of  earth. 
The  tender  love  of  Deity 
In  this  delightsome  tint  we  see, 
Potent  the  weary  eye  to  soothe, 
And  clothe  the  earth  in  new-born  youth. 
Such  care  to  deck  man's  home  he  took, 
Till  joy  flows  in  at  every  look, 
FF 


450          Might .  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

While  mount  and  main  flash  hymns  abroad, 
And  nature  coruscates  with  God ; 
And  worship  dons  a  bridal  dress, 
And  owns  her  name  is — Cheerfulness." 

CLXXX.  Abbreviation,  never  named,  yet  deserves  no- 
tice; as  when  you  speak  of  "  Gents  on  Broadway  cane  in 
hand;"  or  "We  Yanks  brag  enough  about  ourselves;" 
or  a  certain  line  of  conduct  is  stigmatized  as  wholly 
"infra  dig" — that  is,  beneath  our  dignity;  yet  we  may 
be  compelled,  by  the  first  outburst  of  rain,  to  wait,  at 
the  next  corner,  for  the  earliest  'bus  that  passes. 

CLXXXI.  Hendiadys,  Splitting  into  Two,  consists  in 
the  separating  of  what  is  really  but  one  thing  into  two 
things,  as  when  Virgil  describes  persons  at  a  banquet  as 
drinking  "  from  goblets  and  from  gold" — that  is,  from 
golden  goblets;  or  as  when  Horace,  book  i.,  ode  viii., 
speaks  of  Achilles  hurried  "  into  slaughter  and  the  Tro- 
jan bands,"  instead  of  •"  hurried  to  the  slaughter  of  the 
Trojan  bands."  This  figure  is  in  English  very  rare. 
Milton,  familiar  with  all  felicities  and  dexterities  of  the 
classics,  gives  us  examples,  as  in  vi.,  355,  when  he  tells 
us  that  "  the  might  of  Gabriel  fought." 

CLXXXII.  Antonomasia  is  our  next:  the  using  a 
proper  name  for  a  common  name,  as  when  an  orator  is 
called  a  Demosthenes ;  a  traitor  an  Arnold ;  a  calm,  dis- 
interested patriot  a  Washington.  A  renowned  example 
of  this  occurs  when  Shylock,  the  case  being  at  first  de- 
cided in  his  favor  in  Shakespeare's  drama,  cries  delighted  : 

"A  Daniel  come  to  judgment;  yea,  a  Daniel." 

You  remember,  no  doubt,  the  instance  in  Gray's 
"Elegy:" 

"  Some  village  Hampden,  who,  with  dauntless  breast, 

The  little  tyrant  of  his  fields  withstood ; 
Some  mute,  inglorious  Milton  here  may  rest; 

Some  Cromwell,  guiltless  of  his  country's  blood." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  451 

How  great  a  force  to  this  figure,  when,  instead  of  say- 
ing, "  Thou  art  a  Cicero,"  it  is  said,  out  and  out,  "  Thou 
art  Cicero."  Mark  viii.,  33.  As  Dr.  Young  was  walking 
in  his  garden  at  Dover,  in  company  with  two  ladies,  one 
of  whom  he  afterwards  married,  a  servant  came  to  tell  him 
that  a  gentleman  wished  to  speak  with  him.  "  Tell  him," 
says  the  doctor,  "  I  am  too  happily  engaged  to  change 
my  situation."  The  ladies  insisted  that  he  should  go,  as 
his  visitor  was  a  man  of  rank,  his  patron  and  his  friend. 
As  persuasion,  however,  had  no  effect,  one  took  him  by 
the  right  arm  and  the  other  by  the  left,  and  marched 
him  to  the  garden  gate;  when,  finding  resistance  was 
vain,  he  bowed,  laid  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  in  that 
expressive  manner  for  which  he  was  so  remarkable, 
spoke  the  following  lines : 

"  Thus  Adam  look'd  when  from  his  garden  driven, 
And  thus  disputed  orders  sent  from  heaven. 
Like  him  I  go,  but  yet  to  go  am  loth ; 
Like  him  I  go,  for  angels  drove  us  both. 
Hard  was  his  fate,  but  mine  still  more  unkind, 
His  Eve  went  with  him — but  mine  stays  behind." 

CLXXXIII.  Alliteration,  or  Homceopropheron,  is  the 
employment  in  close  succession  of  two  or  more  words 
that  begin  with  the  same  letter,  as  when  Elijah  Fenton 
terms  Waller — 

"Maker  and  model  of  melodious  verse." 

So  much  is  our  language  inclined  to  this,  that  thus  on 
a  prayer-book  wrote  Richard  Crashaw,  of  "  Prayer:" 

"  It  is  the  armory  of  light ; 
Let  constant  use  but  keep  it  bright, 

You  find  it  yields 
To  holy  hands  and  humble  hearts 

More  swords  and  shields 
Than  sin  hath  snares  or  hell  hath  darts." 

Tobias  G.  Smollett,  the  novelist,  bursts  into  his  noble 
"  Ode  to  Independence  "  thus: 


452          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"Thy  spirit,  Independence,  let  me  share — 
Lord  of  the  lion  heart,  and  eagle  eye !" 

Let  us  adopt  from  De  Quincey  his  two  admirable  def- 
initions of  those  who  dig  up  the  metal,  truth,  and  those 
who  work  up  that  metal  for  current  use : 

"  The  fact  is,  that  the  laborers  of  the  mine  are  seldom  fitted 
to  be  also  laborers  of  the  mint." 
Or  hear  Henry  Clay : 

"  I  was  born  to  no  proud  patrimonial  estate ;  from  my  father 
I  inherited  only  infancy,  ignorance,  and  indigence." 

Gibbon,  in  his  magnificent  work,  "  The  Decline  and 
Fall  of  the  Roman  Empire,"  says: 

"  Whenever  the  spirit  of  fanaticism,  at  once  so  credulous  and 
so  crafty,  has  insinuated  itself  into  a  noble  mind,  it  insensibly 
corrodes  the  vital  principles  of  virtue  and  veracity." 

In  McLellan,  on  the  "  Robin,"  what  a  sweet  accord  of 
sounds ! 

"  With  the  sweet  airs  of  spring  the  Robin  comes, 
And  in  her  simple  song  there  seems  to  gush 
A  strain  of  sorrow  when  she  visiteth 
Her  last  year's  withered  nest.     But  when  the  gloom 
Of  the  deep  twilight  falls,  she  takes  her  perch 
Upon  the  red-stemmed  hazel's  slender  twig 
That  overhangs  the  brook,  and  suits  her  song 
To  the  slow  rivulet's  inconstant  chime." 

In  fact,  alliteration  is  rhyme;  rhyme  at  the  beginning 
of  a  word  instead  of  at  the  end.  The  recurrence  of  the 
same  sound  gives  a  certain  satisfaction  of  honey  to  the 
sense,  slight,  to  be  sure,  yet  perceptible  enough ;  there  is 
a  tendency  in  our  nature  to  form  such  recurring  sounds ; 
hence  alliteration  frequently  is  produced  without  any 
set  design ;  you  yourself  are  surprised  when  you  see  you 
have  run  into  it.  But  often  it  is  the  fruit  of  intention. 
Of  all  our  great  writers,  Spenser  uses  it  the  most.  He 
thus  paints  Prince  Arthur's  crest : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  453 

"  Upon  the  top  of  all,  his  lofty  crest, 
A  bunch  of  hairs  discolor'd  diversely, 
With  sprinkled  pearl  and  gold  full  richly  drest, 
Did  shake  and  seem'd  to  dance  for  jollity; 
Like  to  an  almond-tree,  ymounted  high 
On  top  of  green  Selinjs,  all  alone, 
With  blossoms  brave  bedecked  daintily, 
Whose  tender  locks  do  tremble,  every  one, 
At  every  little  breath  that  under  heaven  is  blown." 

In  every  literature  that  has  risen  from  independent 
native  sources  and  impulses,  poetry  has  come  sooner 
than  written  prose,  for  in  rude  tribes  fancy  is  stronger 
than  judgment :  Homer  preceded  Herodotus.  Even  be- 
fore the  at  least  common  use  of  writing,  epic  and  lyric 
song  has  existed;  the  epic  being  essentially  historical, 
while  the  lyric  is  the  voice  of  individual  passion  and  of 
praise ;  and  the  bard  was  expected  to  be  able  to  carry 
in  his  mind  and  recite  numerous  lengthy  poems.  Hence 
a  powerful  memory  was  as  much  admired,  in  the  dawn 
of  literature,  as  strong  inventive  genius;  every  thing 
that  could  aid  the  recollection  was  highly  valued.  It 
thus  happened  that  what  Churchill  the  Satirist  terms 
"  apt  alliteration's  artful  aid  "  is  of  old  historic  standing 
in  our  literature,  being  derived  from  the  Saxons,  with 
whom,  as  with  the  Scalds  of  Iceland,  and  in  the  old 
Welsh  Cymric  poets,  alliteration  enjoyed  constantly  the 
highest  metrical  value;  and  Spenser  sat  at  their  feet. 
Very  early  appeared  "  The  Vision  of  William  concerning 
Piers  Plowman,"  and  what  an  indescribable  luxuriousness 
does  Spenser  steal  for  his  "  Dreamland  "  from  the  alliter- 
ative indulgences  by  which  "  William  "  is  so  continually 
ruled.  Joseph  P.  Drake,  in  our  day,  revels  thus  in  his 
description  of  Bronx: 

"  I  sat  me  down  upon  a  green  bank  side 

Skirting  the  smooth  edge  of  a  gentle  river, 
Whose  waters  seem'd  unwillingly  to  glide, 

Like  parting  friends,  who  linger  while  they  sever; 


454          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Enforced  to  go,  yet  seeming  still  unready, 

Backward  they  wend  their  way  in  many  a  wistful  eddy. 

"  Gray  o'er  my  head  the  yellow-vested  willow 
Ruffled  its  hoary  top  in  the  fresh  breezes ; 
Glancing  in  light,  like  spray  on  a  green  billow, 

Or  the  fine  frostwork  which  young  winter  freezes, 
When  first  his  power,  in  infant  pastime  trying, 
Congeals  sad  autumn's  tears  on  the  dead  branches  lying." 

In  an  eminently  beautiful  poem,  "  A  Song  for  Septem- 
ber," by  Thomas  W.  Parsons,  this  delicate  rhyme  at  the 
beginning  is  charming : 

"  September  strews  the  woodland  o'er 

With  many  a  brilliant  color; 
The  world  is  brighter  than  before, 

Why  should  our  hearts  be  duller? 
Sorrow  and  the  scarlet  leaf, 

Sad  thoughts  and  sunny  weather. 
Ah  me !     This  glory  and  this  grief 

Agree  not  well  together." 

From  George  Eliot's  poem,  "  The  Spanish  Gypsy," 
well  worth  reading — the  authoress  a  very  able  novelist 
— take  as  follows : 

"  Broad-breasted  Spain,  leaning  with  equal  love 
On  the  mid-sea  that  moans  with  memories, 
And  on  the  untraveled  ocean  whose  vast  tides 
Pant  dumbly  passionate  with  dreams  of  youth." 

The  whole  volume  abounds  every  where  with  the  finest 
felicities. 

From  the  close  of  what  follows,  alliterations  may  be 
culled.  It  is  taken  from  the  "  Earthly  Paradise,"  a  col- 
lection of  twenty-four  poetic  tales,  by  William  Morris, 
our  modern  Chaucer,  of  whom  it  has  been  said,  by  the 
Southern  Review,  that  "  for  clearness  of  vision,  vivid  pow- 
er of  representation,  and  sweet,  pure,  idiomatic  English, 
there  has  not  been  such  a  poet  since  the  days  of  Chau- 
cer." We  give  you  his  inimitable  picture  of  a  mill; 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  455 

much  in  Chaucer's  style,  and  equal  to  any  picture  that 
Chaucer  hath.  His  "  Lovers  of  Godrun  "  is  one  of  the 
best  of  the  twenty-four  of  these  tales  of  the  Indo-Euro- 
pean nations: 

"  So  long  he  rode,  he  drew  anigh 
A  mill  upon  the  river's  brim, 
That  seemed  a  goodly  place  to  him, 
For  o'er  the  oily,  smooth  millhead  . 

There  hung  the  apples  growing  red, 
And  many  an  ancient  apple-tree 
Within  the  orchard  could  he  see ; 
While  the  smooth  mill-walls,  white  and  black, 
Shook  in  the  great  wheel's  measur'd  clack 
And  grumble  of-the  gear  within ; 
While  o'er  the  roof  that  dull'd  the  din 
The  doves  sat  crooning  half  the  day, 
And  round  the  half-cut  stack  of  hay 
The  sparrows  fluttered  twittering." 

Morris  has  more  than  Chaucer's  copiousness  in  giving 
us  lengthened  pictures  of  scenery,  for  Chaucer's  are  very 
short ;  far  more  than  Chaucer's  melody,  for  nobody  has 
been  able  to  tell  what  was  the  great  old  writer's  law  of 
rhythm — it  is  doubtful  if  our  poetry  at  that  time  had 
any;  and  the  modern  is  his  equal  in  painting  human 
character;  and  in  narrative. 

With  a  quotation  let  us  indulge  ourselves  from  a  re- 
cent Californian  poet,  Joaquin  Miller,  "  Songs  of  the 
Sierras,"  1871  : 

"The  trees  shook  hands  high  overhead, 
And  bowed  and  intertwined  across 
The  narrow  way;  while  leaves  and  moss 
And  luscious  fruit,  gold-hued  and  red, 
Through  the  cool  canopy  of  green 
Let  not  one  sunshaft  shoot  between." 

Let  your  author  inflict  on  you  these  lines,  that  close 
with  front  rhyme: 


456          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Mid  the  wan  billows  of  a  ghastly  sea — 
Billows  that  coil  like  snakes  of  giant  size— 
And  'neath  the  pallors  of  a  corpse-like  moon, 
Wrestles  the  bark  that  bears  my  destiny. 
When  reach  I  safety's  shore  and  sunbreak's  sheen? 
I  not  despair !     My  Christ  the  tempest  rides, 
And  glints  of  hope,  with  silver,  crest  the  tides; 
And  solitude  and  storm  my  teachers  be, 
And  all  the  moan  and  mystery  of  the  sea. 

Or  Algernon  Charles  Swinburne  sings  to  us  of— 
"  The  lisp  of  leaves,  and  the  ripple  of  rain." 

CLXXXIV.  Poetic  Forms  should  come  in  here.  Of 
themselves  they  deserve  a  lecture.  P.  L.,  vii.,  99.  Many 
fetters  are  laid  on  the  poet,  which  he  must  wear  so  light- 
ly and  gracefully  that  they  shall  become  ornaments; 
therefore  it  is  but  fair  that  he  should  enjoy  certain  lib- 
erties or  licenses  granted  to  him  and  not  to  the  prose 
writers.  To  use  "  adown  the  vale,"  for  "  down  the  val- 
ley," would  justly  be  deemed  a  piece  of  feeble  affectation 
in  prose ;  but  is  felt  to  be  very  suitable  in  a  poet,  and 
may  help  him  to  round  off  his  poetic  line.  It  is  well,  too, 
to  possess  turns  of  diction  that  say  to  us,  as  it  were, 
"  Come,  now,  let  us  abandon  ourselves  to  poetic  suscep- 
tibilities." These  turns  will  serve  a  purpose  similar  to 
the  sound  of  Sabbath-bells  awakening  us  on  a  Sunday 
morning.  A  large  number  of  these  forms  have  already 
been  registered  under  the  figures  above  named,  such  as 
"adown"  just  mentioned;  the  very  numerous  archa- 
isms of  Spenser — not  archaisms  in  his  day,  but  to  us 
beautiful  bits  of  moss  besprent  with  dew.  But  there  are 
others  not  falling  under  any  of  these  heads.  There  are 
many  of  the  Scottish  Doric  words :  unwise  ye,  if  you  are 
unacquainted  with  them  ;  a  rich  variety  of  words,  redo- 
lent of  pastoral  life;  tufted  with  tufts  of  the  beautiful, 
as  is  the  hawthorn  with  bunches  of  bloom,  or  the  wil- 
low with  its  early  April  catkins:  such  as  "gloaming," 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  457 

"  bonnie,"  "  kye,"  "  snell,"  "  the  slogan,"  "  gowans," 
"glen,"  "  coronach,"  "eerie,"  "blithe."  Study  a  glos- 
sary to  Burns.  Yet  Marsh  gives  a*warning  that  is  wise : 

"  The  power  of  substituting  a  hundred  epithets  for  the  prop- 
er name  of  the  object  to  which  they  are  applied,  when  their 
origin  is  forgotten,  is  a  hinderance  rather  thail  a  help ;  and  even 
in  poetical  diction  such  words  are  little  better  than  tinsel.  To 
exemplify:  To  those  who  know  that  falchion  is  derived  from 
the  Latin  falx,  a  sickle  or  scythe,  the  word  suggests  an  image 
which  sword  does  not  excite,  and  therefore  the  picturesqueness 
of  the  poetic  phrase  in  which  it  occurs.  But  to  those  who  are 
ignorant  of  the  etymology,  it  is  simply  what  may  be  called  a 
sensation-synonym  for  sword.  It  is  recommended  only  by 
metrical  adaptation,  or  simply  by  its  unfamiliarity ;  it  adds  ab- 
solutely nothing  to  the  expressiveness  of  the  diction  which  em- 
ploys it,  and  in  most  cases  is,  both  to  writer  and  reader,  simply 
fustian." 

In  short,  if  your  thought  or  description  be  not  poetic 
when  couched  in  the  plainest  and  commonest  language, 
you  have  reason  sometimes  to  suspect  that  no  soul  of 
poesy  is  in  it. 

Yet,  spite  this  caution,  many  a  touch  of  beauty  can 
poetic  forms  bestow,  as  in  Cowper,  "  libbard  "  for  "  leop- 
ard :" 

"  The  lion,  and  the  libbard,  and  the  bear 
Graze  with  the  fearless  flocks." 

So  there  are  such  words  as  "  nathless,"  "  ammiral," 
"  Rhene,"  "  Danaw,"  "  erst,"  "  cressets,"  "  parle,"  "  mage  " 
(singular  of  magi),  "  eld."  Or  as  in  P.  L.,  xii.,  600.  Or 
condescend  to  read  from  your  author: 

The  queen  of  night  seems  lost  from  heaven ; 
But  though  her  silvery  cirque  may  wane, 
Returns  the  hour,  spite  rain  and  rack, 
When,  like  cleans'd  soul  from  death  come  back, 
Her  crescent  fills  again. 

It  must,  however,  be  once  again  repeated  that  poetic 


45  8          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

forms  are  ofttimes  a  delusion  and  a  snare,  tending  to 
foster  a  brood  of  "  literary-poets,"  far  inferior  to  the 
poets  of  simple  strength  and  direct  inspiration.  To  a 
considerable  extent,Tennyson  is  a  "  literary-poet ;"  he  is 
too  fine-spun ;  his  diction  is  too  artistic ;  the  bow  he 
twangs  has  been  carved  and  made  so  elegant  that,  like 
the  bow  in  the  fable,  it  has  lost  some  of  the  invaluable 
rude  strength  which  a  true  practical  Robin  Hood  would 
rejoice  in,  if  there  were  a  great  fight  for  home  and  father- 
land. Surely,  to  say  "  rich  enow  "  for  "  rich  enough," 
or  to  call  a  merchant  ship  "a  dromond, "'is  a  style  of 
talk  never  found  on  the  lips  of  actual  men.  Let  us  de- 
spise tinsel,  even  when  Tennyson  patronizes  such  a 
thing. 

We  here  press  on  you  two  great  balancing  truths — 
both  emphatic.  If  you  despise  either,  your  style  will 
never  be  first  class,  and  your  judgment  of  writers  will  be 
often  erroneous.  First,  the  thought  is  always  greater 
than  the  form.  Ideas  are  more  than  the  arrangement  of 
ideas.  Not  the  clothes  are  the  chief  thing,  but  the  man, 
the  truth.  Despise  whatever  is  frippery,  and  all  the 
dandyism  of  set  efforts  to  get  at  the  ornamental.  To 
seize  a  young  oak,  and  try  to  toss  its  boughs  and  its 
leaves  into  pretty  or  noble  shapes,  by  shaking  it,  is  pal- 
try work ;  but  the  princely  growth  is  a  grand  thing  to 
look  at,  when  the  free  winds  of  heaven  swing  the  tree, 
as  if  with  an  inspiration  from  the  sky.  Let  it  mainly  be 
the  throbbing  vitality  of  your  idea  that  shall  call  up  the 
figures  that  suit  it.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  lay  to  heart 
what  that  profound  thinker,  Taine,  has  said  :  "  The  source 
of  the  arts  is  the  sentiment  of  form."  It  is  of  almost  su- 
preme importance  that  a  valuable  fact  or  thought  be 
stated  skillfully  and  artistically,  and  in  the  most  felicitous 
and  impressive  form.  In  this  the  French  is  unequaled. 
Our  writers  of  English  are  often  very  clumsy  and  unar- 
tistic  both  in  prose  and  poetry.  Therefore,  be  so  familiar 
with  figures  that  they  will  come  to  you  without  effort. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  459 


CHAPTER   XXIII. 
FIGURES    OF    RHETORIC. 
.       PART    EIGHTEENTH. 

Sudden  Transition. — Allusion. — Hint,  or  Suggestion. — As- 
cription of  Determination. — Periphrasis. — Superfine  En- 
glish. — Interpretation.  — Proverbs.  —  The  Third  Person. 
—Odd  Rhyme. — Odd  Prose. — Household  Words. — Pre- 
tended Depreciation. — Rhetorical  Use  of  the  Past. — Rhe- 
torical Use  of  the  Future. — Ascription  of  Rationality. — 
Nicknames.  —  The  Doric.  — Impersonation.  —  The  Mate- 
rialistic.—  The  Singular  Number. — Double  Nouns  and 
Double  Words.  —  Celerity.  —  Epithetic.  —  Passing  over 
from  the  Literal  to  the  Figurative. —  Threat. — Repose. 

CLXXXV.  SUDDEN  TRANSITION,  of  kin  to  antithesis, 
is  a  form  of  writing  powerful  in  oratory,  and  often  used 
in  wit.  We  send  you  to  a  very  diverting  poem  by  a 
Scotch  bard,  Professor  William  Tennant,  "  Anster  Fair" 
its  name.  He  thus  depicts  his  heroine,  the  far-famed 
Maggie  Lauder,  well  known  in  Scottish  music.  The 
verse  is  the  celebrated  ottava-rima  of  Italy : 

"  Her  face  was  as  the  summer  cloud,  whereon 
The  dawning  sun  delights  to  rest  his  rays ; 

Compared  with  it,  old  Sharon's  vale,  o'ergrown 
With  flaunting  roses,  had  resigned  its  praise ; 

For  why  ?     Her  face  with  heaven's  own  roses  shone, 
Mocking  the  morn,  and  witching  men  to  gaze ; 

And  he  that  gazed  with  cold,  unsmitten  soul, 

That  blockhead's  heart  were  ice,  thrice  baked  beneath  the  pole. 


460          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Her  locks,  apparent  tufts  of  wiry  gold, 

Lay  on  her  lily  temples,  fairly  dazzling, 
And  on  each  hair,  so  harmless  to  behold, 

A  soul's  soul  hung  mercilessly  strangling; 
The  piping,  silly  zephyrs  vied  t'  unfold 

The  tresses  in  their  arms  so  slim  and  tangling, 
And  thrid  in  sport  these  lover-noosing  snares, 
And  played  at  hide-and-seek  amid  the  golden  hairs." 

Dr.  Johnson  gives  us  a  good  example  as  follows : 

"  Hermit  hoar,  in  solemn  cell, 

Wearing  out  life's  evening  gray, 
Strike  thy  bosom,  sage,  and  tell 
What  is  bliss,  and  which  the  way. 

"  Thus  I  spoke,  and  speaking  sighed, 
Scarce  repress'd  the  starting  tear, 
When  the  hoary  sage  replied — 

'  Come,  my  lad,  and  drink  some  beer.'  "  * 

Occurs  a  clever  instance  of  this  figure  in  Longfellow's 
"  Hyperion,"  a  book  worth  perusal,  though  it  takes,  after 
all,  no  sufficiently  strong  grasp  of  the  great  questions  it 
touches  upon : 

"  I  had  a  friend  who  is  now  no  more.  He  was  taken  away 
in  the  bloom  of  life,  by  a  very  rapid — widow." 

In  the  same  style,  John  Hookham  Frere,  in  1817,  in 
his  "  Mock-heroic/'  by  Whistlecraft  Brothers,  after  tell- 
ing how  certain  ladies  were  rescued  from  a  party  of  gi- 
ants, thus  goes  on : 

"  The  ladies  ?    They  were  tolerably  well ; 

At  least  as  well  as  I  could  have  expected. 
Many  a  sad  detail  I  shall  not  tell — 

Their  toilet  had  been  very  much  neglected ; 
But  by  supreme  good  luck  it  so  befell, 

That  when  the  castle's  capture  was  effected, 
When  those  vile  cannibals  were  overpower'd. 
Only  two  fat  duennas  were  devour'd." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  461 

It  has  too  often  happened  that  this  figure  has  been 
used  to  mock  at  lofty  feeling ;  to  insinuate  with  the 
sneer  of  a  fiend  or  of  a  callous  man  of  the  world  that 
there  is  no  reality  in  disinterested  emotion.  Byron  is 
especially  open  to  this  condemnation.  These  writers 
really  felt  the  beauty  of  the  ideas  they  ridicule ;  but  they 
wished  to  seem  more  callous  and  skeptical  than  they 
actually  were.  Unblest  hypocrisy,  and  most  perverted 
— to  desire  to  seem  worse  than  we  are !  What  hardened 
mental  suicide  ;  what  a  perverted  employment  of  our  no- 
blest susceptibilities,  to  exclaim  to  the  world,  "You  deem 
a  certain  feeling  noble ;  behold  how  easily  I  can  ape  it, 
and  how  thoroughly  I  despise  it !"  This  is  a  kind  of 
mimicry  of  God  himself. 

Sudden  transition  may  be  so  used,  as  in  a  way  full  of 
meaning,  to  suggest  far  more  than  is  written  down,  as  in 
the  Doric  poem  on  a  baby : 

"  Her  een,  sae  like  her  mither's  een — 

Twa  gentle  liquid  things; 
Her  face,  sae  like  an  angel's  face — 
We're  glad  she  has  nae  wings !" 

The  closing  line  suggests  how  often  a  baby  flies  away 
from  us  to  heaven,  and  makes  our  embrace  of  one,  who 
is  so  sweet  and  so  evanescent,  more  intense  from* the 
fear  of  soon  losing  it. 

CLXXXVI.  Allusion  is  one  of  the  most  interesting 
usages  of  speech ;  very  wide  in  the  range  it  can  take. 
Here,  various  reading  of  many  an  author  triumphs,  and 
extensive  knowledge ;  as  Milton's  great  epic  proves.  A 
writer  can  thus  avail  himself  of  all  his  information ;  he 
can  ennoble  a  common  subject,  or  insinuate  what  he 
may  not  wish  to  declare  in  plain  words ;  he  can  electrify 
our  flagging  attention  by  a  delicate  reference  to  some 
renowned  event  or  great  person  or  beautiful  idea,  em- 
balmed in  the  deepest  memory  of  all  educated  minds. 
In  sermons,  particularly,  an  allusion  to  some  Bible  inci- 


462          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

dent  has  often  a  winning  charm.  A  sermon  by  Dr.  Sher- 
lock gives  us  this : 

"  How  disrespectfully  do  we  treat  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  to 
which  we  owe  that  clear  light  both  of  reason  and  nature  which 
we  now  enjoy,  when  we  endeavor  to  set  up  reason  and  nature 
in  opposition  to  it.  Ought  the  withered  hand  which  Christ  has 
restored  and  made  whole,  to  be  lifted  up  against  Him  ?" 

Men  such  as  Darwin  and  Mill;  such  as  Herbert  Spen- 
cer and  Dr.  Tyndall,  are  the  very  sort  who  ought  so  to 
be  branded. 

In  the  sermons  of  Dr.  Seed  you  will  find  many  such 
eloquent  references.  Green,  also,  says  very  happily,  al- 
luding to  David's  slaying  of  Goliath  with  a  stone,  how 
important  exercise  is,  were  it  but  the  lifting  of  a  stone 
and  the  throwing  of  it,  as  a  cure  for  the  spleen : 

"  Fling  but  a  stone,  the  giant  dies." 

As  references  to  Greek  and  Roman  mythology  are  fre- 
quent, inwrought  into  the  very  texture  of  modern  -liter- 
ature, an  intimate  knowledge  of  that  mythology  is  a  val- 
uable part  of  a  good  education ;  yet  the  allusion  must 
be  widely  known,  else  it  can  not  be  widely  enjoyed  ;  con- 
sequently the  most  telling  allusions  are  those  that  make 
reference  to  God's  Word,  on  account  of  the  wide  famil- 
iarity of  Scripture.  Yet  not  to  Scripture  alone  are  we 
restricted.  In  the  address  of  R.  C.  Winthrop  to  the  Bos- 
ton Mercantile  Library  Association,  1845,  we  encounter 
a  very  original  allusion  to  a  well-known  custom  of  the 
American  Indians: 

"  Commerce  has  in  all  ages  been  the  most  formidable  antag- 
onist of  war.  In  the  smoke-pipe  of  every  steamer  which  brings 
the  merchandise  of  Britain  to  our  ports  we  see  a  calumet  of 
peace  which  her  war-chiefs  dare  not  extinguish." 

Observe  what  a  sublime  allusion  in  the  subjoined 
couplet  of  P.ope's : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  463 

"Nature  and  Nature's  laws  lay  hid  in  night: 
God  said,  '  Let  Newton  be !'  and  all  was  light." 

Sir  Walter  Scott  treats  us  to  the  following  apt  yet 
unexpected  allusion  to  Shakespeare : 

"Give  to  the  world  one  half  of  the  Sunday,  and  you  will  find 
that  religion  has  no  strong  hold  of  the  other.  Pass  the  morn- 
ing at  church,  and  the  evening,  according  to  your  taste  or  rank, 
in  the  cricket-field  or  at  the  opera,  and  you  will  soon  find  that 
thoughts  of  the  evening's  hazards  and  bets  intrude  themselves 
on  the  sermon,  and  that  recollections  of  the  popular  melodies 
interfere  with  the  Psalms.  Religion  is  thus  treated  like  Lear, 
to  whom  his  ungrateful  daughters  first  denied  one  half  of  his 
stipulated  attendance,  and  then  made  it  a  question  whether 
they  should  grant  him  any  share  of  what  remained." 

Let  us  now  precisely  contrast  the  common  and  the 
Scriptural  allusion.  In  one  of  the  wild  stories  of  the 
Greek  mythology,  Medea  had  an  aged  animal  chopped 
to  pieces,  boiled  the  parts  in  a  caldron,  and  brought  out 
the  animal  restored  to  life  and  to  youth.  Accordingly, 
Prescott,  our  justly  far-famed  historian,  in  his  criticism 
of  Chateaubriand's  "  English  Literature,"  thus  speaks  of 
the  obligation  lying  on  the  historian  to  consult  old  chron- 
icles, and  to  new-mould  their  matter  into  new  forms  of 
elegance : 

"In  short,  a  sort  of  Medea -like  process  is  to  be  gone 
through;  and  many  an  old  bone  is  to  be  boiled  over  in  the 
caldron,  before  it  can  come  out  again  clothed  in  the  elements 
of  beauty." 

This  allusion  thousands  would  not  understand;  what 
could  a  caldron,  or  immense  kettle,  have  to  do  with  it  ? 
But  in  the  following,  Webster,  lauding  Alexander  Ham- 
ilton as  a  great  financier,  makes  an  allusion  that  no  one 
can  miss;  for  it  is  to  the  Bible  he  alludes — the  common 
classic  of  Christendom : 


464          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  He  smote  the  rock  of  the  national  resources,  and  the  abun- 
dant stream  of  revenue  gushed  forth ;  he  touched  the  dead 
corpse  of  the  public  credit,  and  it  sprang  to  its  feet." 

In  like  manner,  in  the  following  familiar  dictum  aimed 
against  the  mimicking  of  great  masters,  lies  a  reference 
which  no  one  mistakes : 

"He  who  has  really  caught  the  mantle  of  the  prophet,  is  the 
last  man  to  imitate  his  walk." 

The  chief  book  for  the  orator  to  get  thoroughly  familiar 
with,  for  the  purposes  of  his  art,  and  to  go  to  for  weap- 
ons, is  the  Bible.  Master  the  Bible,  if  you  would  master 
the  heart. 

In  a  homelier  direction  did  Chatham  travel  for  an  al- 
lusion, in  his  amusing  reply  to  George  Grenville.  The 
latter,  in  the  British  House  of  Commons,  was  contend- 
ing against  Chatham,  then  Mr.  Pitt,  that  a  certain  tax 
was  unavoidable: 

"  The  right  honorable  gentleman  complains,"  said  Grenville, 
"  of  the  hardness  of  the  tax ;  why  does  he  not  tell  us  where  he 
can  lay  another  in  its  place  ?  Tell  me,  tell  me  where  you  can 
lay  another  tax — tell  me  where  ?" 

Mr.  Pitt,  from  his  seat,  broke  out  in  a  musical  tone, 
quoting  from  a  very  popular  song  of  the  day : 

"  Gentle  Shepherd,  tell  me  where  !" 

The  House  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter.  It  was  lucky  for 
Mr.  Grenville  that  he  was  not  nicknamed  "  Gentle  Shep- 
herd "  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  You  will  be  reminded  of 
General  Butler's  "  Shoo-fly." 

Be  it  permitted  to  have  recourse  to  the  sublime ;  from 
Curran's  speech  for  Rowan  let  us  quote: 

"  If,  which  Heaven  forbid,  it  hath  been  still  unfortunately  de- 
termined that,  because  he  has  not  bent  to  power  and  author- 
ity, because  he  would  not  bow  down  before  the  golden  calf  and 
worship  it,  he  is  to  be  bound  and  cast  into  the  furnace,  I  do 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  465 

trust  in  God  that  there  is  a  Redeeming  Spirit  in  the  Constitu- 
tion which  will  be  seen  to  walk  with  the  sufferer  through  the 
flames,  and  to  preserve  him  unhurt  by  the  conflagration." 

Mark  how  sublime  such  Bible  allusions  can  be. 

There  occur  instances,  too,  of  happy,  heart-touching 
allusions  to  the  speaker's  life  or  profession,  as  when  the 
old  schoolmaster,  dying,  said,  as  the  dimness  of  death 
fell  on  his  eyes  and  mind : 

"  It  is  growing  dark — the  school  may  be  dismissed." 

Excellent,  Nathaniel  Cotton's  well-known  lines  on 
Time : 

"O  let  it  not  elude  thy  grasp;  but  like 
The  good  old  patriarch  upon  record, 
Hold  the  fleet  angel  fast,  until  he  bless  thee." 

Enough  has  been  stated  to  show  how  well  fitted  to 
reach  every  mind  are  allusions  to  the  Scriptures.  Re- 
member this.  Act  upon  this.  Allusions  to  Shakespeare, 
also,  are  widely  understood  and  felt.  We  close  with  an 
allusion  of  our  own: 

The  Theban  bard,  in  lyric  strain  of  old, 
Pictured  an  eagle  on  Jove's  thunder-bolt; 
On  our  Jehovah's  'tis  a  Dove  that  perches. 

CLXXXVII.  Hint,  or  Suggestion,  may  be  registered 
as  quite  different  from  the  last ;  something  very  brief 
of  your  own ;  as  when  John  Sterling  says : 

"  What  the  dream  but  vain  rebelling, 

If  from  earth  we  sought  to  flee. 

'Tis  our  stored  and  ample  dwelling; 

'Tis  from  it  the  skies  we  see." 

Think  how  much  is  hinted  at  in  the  last  line.  No  great- 
er merit  can  a  writer  or  speaker  have  than  to  be  very 
suggestive.  A  suggestion  is  a  dim  thought  of  your  own. 
Is  thinking,  then,  a  figure?  No.  But  a  thought  kept 

GG 


466          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


purposely  dim  for  effect  is  a  figure,  and  a  very  fine  one. 
On  the  other  hand,  an  allusion  is  a  reference  to  a  thought 
of  some  one  else. 

CLXXXVIII.  Ascription  of  Determination  is  another 
figure  not  to  be  left  out.  In  a  translation  of  Paul  Faval's 
powerful  French  tale,  "  The  White  Wolf,"  made  by  us 
for  a  Philadelphia  periodical,  we  have  thus  rendered  a 
passage  on  guardians : 

"  For  one  who  knows  how  to  steer  his  bark,  the  part  of  a 
guardian  may  be  made  to  go  far.  Every  man  is  mortal;  the 
ward  is  liable  to  that  crowd  of  deplorable  accidents  which 
threaten  our  poor  humanity.  They  die,  these  children,  of  fever, 
of  croup;  they  die  of  eating  too  much  and  of  drinking  too 
much ;  one  can  be  munched  up  by  a  wolf  in  a  way  different 
from  what  is  told  in  the  fables  of  Perrault;  some  of  them  insist 
on  getting  drowned.  Farther  on  in  life  there  are  duels,  falls 
from  horseback,  and  such  love  as  that  which  ruined  Troy.  Be- 
cause of  all  these  things,  the  ward  of  a  guardian  who  is  up  to 
his  trade  rarely  reaches  his  majority,  when  his  heritage  is  worth 
much  thought;  and  Mr.  de  Vaunoy  was  an  able  man." 

Mark  in  this,  too,  the  pleonasm  and  the  irony. 

CLXXXIX.  Periphrasis,  or  Circumlocution,  than  which 
few  figures  are  more  common  or  more  important,  is  the 
naming  of  a  person  or  thing,  not  directly,  but  in  a  round- 
about way.  In  "  Hiawatha,"  Longfellow  gives  us  the 
Indian  name  for  September — 

"The  moon  of  the  falling  leaves." 

So  that  this  figure  may  be  called,  when  it  grows  more 
condensed,  with  flash  in  it — Definition.  When  skillfully 
managed,  it  adds  energy  by  fixing  attention  on  some  im- 
portant circumstance ;  or  it  may  serve  purposes  of  ridi- 
cule by  making  prominent  some  absurd  point  in  the  his- 
tory of  the  object  described.  In  his  oration  on  the  Peace, 
Demosthenes,  speaking  of  Neoptolemus,who  was  a  tragic 
writer,  as  well  as  an  actor,  calls  him — 

"Neoptolemus  the  player," 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  467 

in  order  to  depreciate  him.  Dean  Swift,  wishing  to  put 
a  slight  on  an  individual,  expressed  himself  thus : 

"  One  of  these  authors  (the  fellow  that  was  pilloried — I  forget 
his  name)." 

But  often  it  is  carried  to  excess — an  inch  of  meaning  be- 
ing spun  out  into  tedious  yards,  and  yards  of  wordy  talk. 
Scriblerus  tells  us  of  a  certain  periphrast  of  Scripture — 
the  passage  spun  out  was  this  sublime  one: 

"  He  looks  on  the  earth  and  it  trembles  ;  He  touches  the  hills 
and  they  smoke." 

The  man  of  words  thus  mixed  water — dish-water — with 
the  wine : 

"  The  hills  forget  they're  fix'd,  and  in  their  fright 
Cast  off  their  weight,  and  fit  themselves  for  flight; 
The  woods,  with  terror  winged,  outfly  the  wind ; 
And  leave  the  heavy,  panting  hills  behind." 

On  this  doth  Scriblerus  thus  discourse : 

"You  here  see  the  hills  not  only  tumbling,  but  shaking  off 
the  woods  from  their  backs  to  run  the  faster;  after  this  you  are 
presented  with  a  foot-race  of  mountains  and  woods,  where  the 
woods  distance  the  mountains,  that,  like  corpulent,  pursy  fel- 
lows, come  puffing  and  panting  a  vast  way  behind  them." 

Like  alliteration,  periphrasis  is  of  very  old  standing  in 
our  literature ;  in  Saxon  poetry  it  was  in  constant  use, 
and  was  at  times  a  source  of  obscurity.  In  a  passage  in 
the  death-song  of  Regnor  Lodbrog,  this  phrase  occurs: 

"  Soon  shall  we  drink  out  of  the  curved  trees  of  the  head." 

Bishop  Percy,  who  did  such  invaluable  service  to  En- 
glish poetry  by  bringing  the  old  ballads  into  notice,  trans- 
lated this  expression  thus : 

"  Soon  in  the  splendid  hall  of  Odin  we  shall  drink  beer  out 
of  the  skulls  of  our  enemies." 

The  Bishop  followed  Olaus  Wormius,  the  celebrated 
Danish  antiquary,  who  had  rendered  it — 


468          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  Out  of  the  concave  goblets  of  skulls." 

Thus  has  the  idea  prevailed  that  our  Scandinavian  sires 
pictured  their  departed  heroes,  in  Valhalla,  or  heaven, 
drinking  out  of  their  enemies'  skulls — an  impression  so 
universal  that  Peter  Pindar  said  of  booksellers  that,  like 
the  heroes  of  Valhalla,  they  drink  their  wine  out  of  the 
skulls  (the  abilities)  of  authors.  But  the  Scald  was  mere- 
ly alluding,  in  a  periphrasis,  to  the  curved  horns  that 
formed  the  drinking-cups  of  the  North,  and  which  grew, 
branchlike,  from  the  head  of  the  stag.  The  numberless 
roundabouts  of  Saxon  poetry — Caedmon  having  eight- 
een for  Noah's  ark — have  this  excuse,  that  they  arose 
sometimes  from  a  violent  stimulus.  King  Knut  told  a 
scop,  as  the  Saxons  called  a  poet,  who  had  recited  a  short 
poem  in  his  honor: 

"Are  you  not  ashamed  to  do  what  none  but  you  has  dared — 
to  make  a  short  poem  on  Me  !  Unless  by  to-morrow's  dinner 
you  produce  above  thirty  strophes  on  the  same  subject,  you'll 
pay  for  it  with  your  head  !" 

The  scop,  Loftinga,  set  to  work ;  and  by  dinner-time  the 
thrice  ten  strophes  were  piping  hot ;  whereon  Knut 
gave  him  fifty  marks  of  purified  silver.  Effectual  way  to 
stimulate  a  flow  of  periphrasis. 

Some  writers  are  so  unwilling  to  call  things  by  their 
plain  names  that  they  make  their  style  ridiculous  by 
swelling  circumlocutions.  Even  the  classical  Gray  has, 
for  once,  too  much  of  this ;  as  when,  speaking  of  Eton 
College,  where  he  was  at  school,  he  asks— 

"  Who  foremost  now  delight  to  cleave 
With  pliant  arm  thy  glassy  wave  ? 

The  captive  linnet  which  enthrall  ? 
What  idle  progeny  succeed 
To  chase  the  rolling  circle's  speed, 
Or  urge  the  flying  ball  ?" 

To  trundle  the  hoop  was  not  dignified  enough  for 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  469 

these  lines,  so  the  boys  must  "  chase  the  rolling  circle's 
speed."  Dr.  Johnson  sins  in  this  way  so  much  that  his 
name  is  proverbial  for  it.  "  Sunset "  with  him  is  "  the 
gentle  coruscations  of  declining  day."  At  another  time 
he  saturates  us  with  this : 

"  A  skillet  is  watched  on  the  fire ;  we  see  it  simmer  with  the 
due  degree  of  heat,  and  snatch  it  off" — 

when,  think  ye? — when  it  is  about  to  boil  over?  By  no 
means;  at  least  you  must  not  be  vulgar  enough  to  say 
so  ;  you  must  snatch  it  off — 

"  at  the  moment  of  projection." 

Gilfillan,  idolater  of  genius,  straining  to  become  him- 
self a  genius,  calls  Amos  "  the  Robert  Burns  of  the  proph- 
ets;" and  Peter  "  the  Oliver  Goldsmith  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament;" and  Job  "the  Landseer  of  ancient  poetry;" 
and  in  a  more  felicitous  way,  with  accuracy,  he  calls  Jesus 
"  that  transcendent  poet  who  died  on  Calvary."  In  won- 
drous bad  taste,  McQueen,  in  his  book, "  The  Orator's 
Touchstone,"  terms  a  tall  man — 

"  One  who  rose  in  height  greatly  above  the  mediocrity  of 
human  altitude." 

In  short,  never  use  periphrasis  unless  there  be  in  it  keen 
insight  into  character,  or  an  overflowing  eloquence,  or  a 
glow  poetic.  Thus  Shakespeare  calls  Valeria — 

"  The  moon  of  Rome ;  so  chaste  she,  and  so  fair ;" 
or  Pope  terms  Alexander— 

"  Macedonia's  madman," 

an  epithet  most  contradictory  of  facts;  or  as  Spenser, 
thus: 

"  Here  eke  that  famous  golden  apple  grew 
For  which  the  Ida3an  ladies  disagreed." 

Or  as  Luther  is  termed — 

*The  solitary  monk  that  shook  the  world." 


470          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Hugh  Miller  was  styled.  "Old  Red,"  or  "  the  Stone- 
mason of  Cromarty."  Guizot,  the  French  statesman  and 
historian,  terms  Luther's  revolution — 

"The  great  insurrection  of  human  thought  against  au- 
thority." 

Dr.  Donne,  whose  poetic  satires  are  rough  in  style  and 
disfigured  by  countless  conceits,  and  who  is  usually  con- 
sidered the  earliest  of  the  metaphysical  school  of  poets, 
designates  the  "  Robin,"  prettily,  as — 

•  "The  household  bird  with  the  red  stomacher." 

Emile  Souvestre,  that  chaste,  elegant,  deeply  wise 
writer,  in  his  delightful  and  instructive  tale,  "  Leaves 
from  a  Family  Journal,"  speaks  of  a  man  so  punctual 
that  he  was  called — 

"The  man  of  all  France  who  best  knew  what  o'clock  it 
was." 

One  of  the  most  edifying  and,  to  be  sure,  rather  un- 
learned of  our  Bible  commentators,  is  good  Matthew 
Henry;  often  when  two  jarring  interpretations  are  of- 
fered of  a  passage,  not  determining  by  clear  argument  on 
the  original  Greek  or  Hebrew  which  is  the  right  mean- 
ing, but,  like  a  kind,  garrulous  grandmother  of  overflow- 
ing piety,  raising  good  improvements  from  both  the 
meanings,  and  mingling  a  spice  of  quaintness  every  now 
and  then  —  as  when  he  makes  remark -on  the  lack  of 
periphrasis  with  which  the  folks  at  Nazareth  spoke  of 
Mary  the  mother  of  Jesus: 

" They  cried,  Is  not  His  mother  Mary  ?"  Says  Henry,  "They 
did  not  call  her  Queen  Mary,  nor  Lady  Mary,  nor  even  Mis- 
tress Mary;  but  just  plain  Mary." 

Dr.  Johnson's  periphrasis  on  a  fishing-rod  might  have 
been  worse : 

"A  rod  with  a  worm  at  the  one  end  and  a  fool  at  the  other;"     \ 
or  a  writer  calls  a  book — 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  471 

"Brain  preserved  in  ink;" 

or  Erastus  Ellsworth,  very  felicitously,  styles  "  Beauty  "- 
"  Daughter  of  Time,  betrothed  unto  Death ;" 

or,  rising  still  higher,  Bourdaloue  defines  Christ's  cru- 
cifixion— 

"  Deifice !" 

Gilfillan,  in  whom  are  many  good  things,  informs  us 
that— 

"  Poetry  is  thought  on  fire." 

Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montague  defined  the  infidels  of 
her  day  as  the  gentlemen  who  differ  very  slightly  from 
true  believers : 

"The  gentlemen  who  merely  take  the  'not'  out  of  the  Com- 
mandments (thou  shalt  steal)  and  put  it  in  the  Creed  (thou 
shalt  not  believe  in  God)." 

Sir  Henry  Wotton  calls  an  embassador — 

"An  honest  gentleman  sent  to  lie  abroad  for  the  good  of  his 
country." 

Wendell  Phillips,  so  classical  and  interesting  as  a  lect- 
urer, terms  a  politician — 

"A  gentleman  who  serves  God  so  far  as  will  give  no  offense 
to  the  devil." 

Prior  thus  writes : 

"  Interred  beneath  this  simple  stone 
Lie  sauntering  Jack  and  honest  Joan. 
They  walked,  they  ate ;  good  folks.     What  then  ? 
Why  then  they  walked  and  ate  again. 
Without  love,  hatred,  joy,  or  tear, 
They  led  a  kind  of— as  it  were." 

Sir  Robert  Walpole  assures  us  that — 

"  The  gratitude  of  place-hunters  is  a  lively  sense  of  future 
favors." 


472          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

The  writer  of  a  recent  religious  novel  styles  Green- 
wood Cemetery— 

"  Three  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of  human  vanity." 
Or  listen  to  Lord  Chatham : 

"  Magna  Charta,  the  Petition  of  Rights,  and  the  Bill  of  Rights 
form  the  Code  which  I  call  the  Bible  of  the  English  Constitu- 
tion." 

Then  mark  carefully  the  different  feelings  in  the  dif- 
ferent speakers'  minds  that  are  expressed  by  the  varying 
periphrases  they  use;  .as  when  Charles  V.,  of  Spain,  to 
the  embassador  of  Henry  VIII. : 

"  Your  master  would  not  give  himself  such  airs  were  he  not 
surrounded  by  that  herring  pond  that's  round  his  island." 

Or  study  the  Scotch  blacksmith's  definition  of"  meta- 
physics :" 

"  When  the  pairty  wha  listens  disna  ken  what  the  pairty  wha 
speaks  means,  and  when  the  pairty  wha  speaks  disna  ken  what 
he  means  himsell — that  is  metaphysics." 

After  all,  however,  metaphysics  is  the  discussion  of 
first  principles,  the  assertion  of  first  principles;  and  these 
need  to  be  asserted. 

When  Curran  was  keeping  his  terms  in  the  Temple  in 
Dublin,  he  attended  sometimes  a  debating  club,  where 
the  admission  fee  for  the  public  was  sixpence,  and  whose 
members  were  by  no  means  distinguished  for  their 
wealth.  Curran,  not  knowing  the  names  of  such  orators 
as  he  was  replying  to,  had  to  use  expressive  circumlocu- 
tions or  periphrases : 

"  I  by  no  means  concur,  sir,  in  the  observations  of  the  gen- 
tleman whose  coat  is  out  at  the  elbows.  He  has  been  ably 
and  satisfactorily  refuted  by  the  speaker  who  followed  him; 
and  in  my  opinion  he  has  derived  but  faint  assistance  from  the 
gentleman  with  the  hole  in  his  black  trousers." 

Turn  to  Douglas  Jerrold,  if  you  want  other  varieties 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  473 

of  this  great  figure  ;  for  instance,  his  "  Bubbles  of  a  Day" 
has  been  styled  "  the  most  electric  and  witty  play  in  the 
English  language ;"  he,  the  originator  of  the  London 
Punch,  will  give  you  plenty  of  samples.  In  the  admi- 
rable style  of  Shakespeare's  "  Coriolanus,"  deserving  of 
the  closest  study,  resembling  a  sky  fierce  with  winter,  and 
all  vibrating  with  the  sharp,  spear-like  coruscations  of 
the  Northern  Lights,  Coriolanus  exclaims : 

"  Hear  you  this  Triton  of  the  minnows  ? 
Mark  you  his  absolute  shall?" 

Burns  terms  the  Haggis — famous  dish  of  the  Scotch, 
and  deserving  of  its  fame — 

"  Great  chieftain  of  the  pudding  race." 

Of  the  eloquence  of  Henry  Grattan,  who  endeavored  to 
form  himself  on  Chatham  as  an  orator,  one  has  said  that 
it  was — 

"A  combination  of  cloud,  whirlwind,  and  flame :" 

a  striking  representation  of  the  occasional  obscurity  of 
his  style,  and  of  its  higher  qualities  of  rapid  force  and 
brilliancy.  The  speeches  of  Fisher  Ames  are  remarka- 
ble specimens  of  clearness,  elegance,  force  of  illustration, 
and  potent  reasoning.  You  will  easily  detect  the  peri- 
phrasis when  he  says : 

"  The  rage  for  theory  and  system,  which  would  entangle  even 
practical  truth  in  the  web  of  the  brain,  is  the  poison  of  public 
discussion.  One  fact  is  worth  two  systems." 

Or  again,  speaking  of  the  American  whale-fishers : 

"  To  that  hardy  race  of  men  the  sea  is  but  a  park  for  hunt- 
ing its  monsters." 

Taking  leave  of  this  mode  of  speech,  we  are  eager  to 
impart  to  the  mind  a  very  deep  impression  of  the  ex- 
ceeding importance  of  cultivating  this  figure.  Far  more 
could  be  made  of  it  than  is  usually  done  ;  as  a  field-mar- 


474          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

shal  would  take  care  to  be  ready  for  war  by  having  a 
large  park  of  field  artillery  ready  near  his  hand. 

CXC.  Superfine  English  demands  notice.  Very  much 
of  it  in  our  day.  Thackeray's  Cornhill  Magazine  dis- 
cusses this  topic  with  abundant  wit.  An  author  is  "a 
literary  man ;"  a  farmer  is  "  an  agricultural  gentleman ;" 
a  bagman  is  "  a  commercial  gentleman ;"  a  barrister  is 
"a  gentleman  of  the  long  robe;"  a  thief,  "a  light-finger- 
ed gentleman;"  and  a  merchant,  "a  gentleman  engaged 
in  mercantile  pursuits."  A  man  used  to  go  to  law,  but 
nowadays  he  "  institutes  legal  proceedings ;"  he  used  to 
go  to  the  doctor,  now  "  he  takes  medical  advice."  "  I 
want  some  cheese,"  said  one  in  a  grocer's  store.  "  That 
gentleman  will  serve  you,"  said  the  master,  pointing  to 
a  well-curled  youth  in  an  apron.  Juries  are  always  ad- 
dressed as  "  gentlemen  of  the  jury."  A  genteel  friend  of 
Mrs.  Brook  having  directed  a  letter  to  a  member  of  the 
family,  and  having  spelt  the  name  "  Brooke,"  she  was 
asked :  "  Surely  the  Brooks  do  not  spell  their  name  with 
an  e?" — "  No,"  she  answered,"  but  I  thought  it  was  more 
polite."  There  is,  too,  the  fine  English  of  the  store- 
keeper, who  styles  himself  "  the  proprietor  of  the  estab- 
lishment." He  that  used  "  to  sell  by  auction,"  now 
"submits  to  public  competition;"  instead  of  "giving 
notice,"  he  "  intimates  to  the  public ;"  instead  of  "  rais- 
ing his  clerk's  wages,"  he  "  augments  his  salary."  Some- 
body going  into  a  store  in  London  to  buy  half-mourn- 
ing, was  referred  by  the  owner  to  the  "  mitigated  afflic- 
tion department."  A  tradesman  of  whom  some  lamp- 
oil  was  bought,  sent  it  home  "  with  Mr.  Clark's  compli- 
ments and  solicitations."  One  man  sells  "unsophisti- 
cated gin ;"  and  another  lets  "  gentlemanly  apartments 
in  close  proximity  to  the  Bank."  They  call  floor-cloth 
"  kamptulicon,"  and  soap  "  typophagon,"  and  an  oint- 
ment to  make  the  hair  grow  is  termed  "  tricopherous." 

CXCI.  Interpretation  is  entitled  to  separate  mention ; 
it  may  or  may  not  accompany  parable  or  allegory;  it 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  475 

may  have  laid  on  it  the  main  stress  of  the  impression; 
and  might  be  revived  in  the  pulpit  especially.  We  foist 
on  our  audience  an  instance  of  our  own: 

When  Jesus,  Victor,  rose  from  gloom, 

A  mighty  earthquake  op'ed  the  tomb ; 

And  where  of  late  their  King  was  laid, 

Two  angels  stood  at  feet  and  head. 

In  eager  zeal  that  earthquake  came — 

Justice  was  his  appalling  name ; 

Not  frowning,  nor  on  vengeance  bent; 

He  came  with  honoring  intent; 

Demanding,  the  atonement  o'er, 

With  his  own  hand  to  burst  the  door. 

And  who  these  bright  and  youthful  twain, 

The  fairest  of  the  angel  train, 

Whose  smile  illum'd  that  place  of  death? 

These,  O  my  soul,  were — Hope  and  Faith. 

This  way  of  beginning  with  a  secret,  which,  farther  on, 
you  reveal  to  your  audience,  will  conduce  not  a  little  to 
keep  up  the  interest  of  your  discourse — nay,  may  turn 
the  church-scene  into  a  noble  drama.  Are  there  some 
ministers  who  never  think  of  this? 

CXCII.  Proverbs  must  not  be  passed  over  in  our  enu- 
meration— proverbs,  the  philosophy  of  the  common  peo- 
ple :  short,  pithy,  homely  sayings,  that  embody  the  con- 
centrated essence  of  the  common  people's  wisdom.  It 
has  been  difficult  to  give  a  perfect  definition  of  a  proverb, 
so  crowded  is  it  with  the  life  of  shrewdness  and  experi- 
ence ;  yet  so  easy,  so  negligent  is  it ;  and  saucy,  as  it 
were.  Its  excellences  are  shortness,  sense,  and  salt.  It 
is  the  wit  of  one  man,  the  wisdom  of  thousands,  cur- 
rent on  the  lips  of  those  who,  untaught  by  books,  have 
learned  much  from  the  severe  experiences  of  actual  life. 

Singular  to  say,  the  Yorubas,  an  African  tribe,  that  has 
fto  poetry,  no  rhyme,  are  rich  in  proverbs — a  sure  prog- 
nostic of  an  elevated  future  yet  in  store  for  them.  Take 
a  few  specimens : 


476          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"The  sword  shows  no  respect  for  its  maker." 

"  I  almost  killed  the  bird,  said  the  fowler;  but  Almost  never 

made  a  stew." 

"It  is  only  the  water  that  is  spilled;  the  calabash  is  not 

broken." 

"  He  who  waits  for  chance,  will  have  to  wait  a  year." 

"  A  one-sided  story  is  always  right.     Ear,  listen  to  the  other 

side." 

"  Though  a  man  may  miss  many  things,  he  never  misses  his 

mouth." 

"  The  dawn  comes  twice  to  no  man." 

"He  who  marries  a  beauty,  marries  trouble." 

"  The  rat  said :  I  am  not  so  angry  with  him  who  killed  me, 

as  with  him  who  dashed  me  on  the  ground  afterward." 
"  It  is  easy  to  cut  up  a  dead  elephant." 
"  He  is  a  fool  who  can't  lift  an  ant  yet  tries  to  lift  an  ele- 
phant." 

"  Covetousness  is  the  mother  of  unsatisfied  desires." 
"Wherever  a  man  goes  to  dwell,  his  character  goes  with 

him." 

The  great  abundance  of  Spanish  proverbs,  from  twen- 
ty-five to  thirty  thousand,  is  one  reason,  among  many 
others,  for  believing  that  much  strength  lies  still  to  be 
developed  among  the  fifteen  millions  of  the  Peninsular 
population :  strong,  active,  high-spirited,  the  most  tem- 
perate in  Europe.  Study  "  Don  Quixote ;"  the  humor- 
ous effect  of  Sancho  Panza's  proverbs  will  illustrate  to 
you  to  what  good  use  you  may  put  this  form  of  words 
when  quoted  deftly.  The  Italians  have  very  many.  The 
Scotch,  too,  are  rich  in  proverbs ;  witness  Andrew  Fair- 
service,  in  "  Waverley."  Subjoined  is  a  short  collection, 
taken  at  random  from  various  sources : 

"  Do  not  look  at  the  vessel,  but  at  what  it  contains." — He- 
brew. 

"  Many  wish  the  tree  felled  who  hope  to  gather  chips  by  the 
fall."—  Thomas  Fuller. 

"  Put  not  thy  secret  into  the  mouth  of  the  Bosporus,  for  it 
will  betray  it  to  the  ears  of  the  Black  Sea." — Turkish. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  477 

"  He  is  the  best  orator  who  can  turn  men's  ears  into  eyes."   I 
— Arabian. 

"  Generally  speaking,  the  rebukes  of  the  just  are  of  more    3 
value  than  their  praise." —  Vinet. 

"  A  false  system  has  for  accomplice  whoever  spares  it  by      / 
silence." —  Vinet. 

"  The  worse  part  of  bad  actions  is  that  they  make  us  worse." 
—  Vinet. 

"  The  world  is  full  of  fugitives  from  themselves." — Madame 
Delambert. 

Admirable  impressions  may  be  made  from  the  pulpit 
or  in  an  oration  by  these  proverb-like  summaries  of  great 
truths.  Excellent  epiphonemas  are  they ;  that  is,  sum- 
mations at  the  close  of  a  paragraph.  No  man  is  fully  . 
equipped  for  the  pulpit  who  can  not  supply  his  own 
proverbs  for  himself;  as  Vinet  did  in  Switzerland.  How 
many  preachers  never  dream  of  this  great  point !  Take 
one  or  two  more  proverbs;  we  refer  you,  also,  to  the 
usual  collections  of  Scottish  ones : 

"  Harm  watch,  harm  catch." 

"One  never  has  so  much  need  of  one's  wits  as  when  one     I 
has  to  do  with  a  fool." — Chinese. 

"  The  unrighteous  penny  eats  up  the  righteous  pound." 

"The  mill  of  God  grinds  slow,  but  grinds  to  powder." 

"  God  comes  with  leaden  feet,  but  he  strikes  with  iron  hands." 

"  The  devil's  meal  is  all  bran." 

"The  man  by  his  word,  the  ox  by  his  horn." 

"  Stay  a  while,  to  make  an  end  the  sooner." 

"He  needs  a  lang  spoon  that  sups  wi'  the  de'il." 

"The  feet  of  the  avenging  deities  are  shod  with  wool." 

CXCIII.  The  Third  Person  deserves  special  notice. 
You  have  heard  one  say  of  himself: 

"  This  child  is  very  honest,  I  tell  you !     It  was  not  he  who 
stole  the  chickens." 

To  put  one's  self  out  of  doors,  and  to  take  a  good  steady 
look  at  one's  self,  may  produce  effects  not  unimportant. 


478          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

You  are  speaking  of  yourself;  you  are  invoking  pity; 
you  say — 

"  Once  stood  an  oak,  strong  and  rejoicing  in  its  million  leaves. 
A  thunderbolt  has  smitten  it.  It  is  withered  to  the  heart.  It 
stands  a  ruin  before  you.  Such  is  the  man  who  now  speaks 
to  you." 

Manifestly  this  figure  is  capable  of  frequent  use.  What 
a  touching  instance  in  Shakespeare,  when  Wolsey,  in 
"  Henry  VIIL,"  arriving  in  his  misfortunes  at  Leicester 
Abbey,  thus  bespeaks  the  abbot : 

"  O  father  Abbot 

An  old  man,  broken  with  the  storms  of  state, 
Is  come  to  lay  his  weary  bones  among  ye; 
Give  him  a  little  earth  for  charity." 

Studying  this  figure  now,  in  the  light  of  this  inex- 
pressibly touching  passage,  say  whether  it  is  or  is  not 
susceptible  of  noble  uses. 

CXCIV.  Odd  Rhyme  is  a  weapon  not  to  be  despised 
in  rhetorical  necessities.  For  instance,  by  school-teach- 
ers. It  is  a  mode  of  grasping  the  memory  and  retaining 
it  for  years  that  is  never  once  used  in  the  text-books  of 
the  United  States.  We  may  go  too  far  in  reforming 
away  old  usages  like  this.  Thus,  in  our  school-readers 
scarcely  one  of  the  old  masterpieces  for  reading  is  allowed 
to  remain.  To  show  what  good  use  rhyme  may  be  put 
to,  we  give  one  instance  about  "  Shall  and  Will."  Hardly 
a  week  passes  that  we  do  not  surprise  ourselves  quoting 
these  lines,  that  are  of  the  highest  use  in  keeping  us  to 
our  duty  in  the  matter: 

"  In  the  first  person  simply  Shall  foretells ; 
In  Will  a  threat  or  else  a  promise  dwells; 
Shall  in  the  second  or  the  third  doth  threat ; 
Will  simply  then  foretells  the  future  feat." 

Another  instance  almost  as  useful  refers  to  the  forma- 
tion of  Latin  verbs : 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  *  479 

"  From  O  are  formed  am  and  em ; 
From  I  are  ram,,  rim,  ro,  se,  and  sem. 
U,  us,  and  rus  are  formed  from  urn ; 
All  other  parts  from  Re  do  come." 

And  who  but  will  own  how  pathetic  are  the  lines  that 
thus  begin — 

"  Thirty  days  hath  September, 
April,  June,  and  November  ?" 

CXCV.  Odd  Bits  of  Prose  must  not  be  overlooked. 
It  precisely  fell  in  with  our  inimitable  Franklin's  humor 
to  deal  in  such ;  as  when  he  used  the  expression — 

"As  Honest  Richard  says." 

In  the  same  spirit  we  have  a  small  volume  by  Spurgeon, 
the  deservedly  celebrated  London  preacher  —  a  book 
soaked  in  Gospel  and  in  Saxon  idiom  and  humor,  where- 
in is  a  rich  variety  of  odd  bits  of  prose ;  racy,  and  much 
marked  by  backbone. 

CXCVI.  There  is  a  class  of  words,  to  possess  which 
is  a  glory  and  charm  of  our  language ;  to  have  named 
which  is  one  of  Shakespeare's  brightest  glories ;  to  have 
little  familiarity  with  which  is  disgraceful  to  any  one  of 
us;  for  such  words  ought  to  be  familiar  on  our  lips  as 
household  words.  Household  words  —  these  are  they 
that  we  mean.  We  dwell  not  on  this;  little  attention 
has  ever  been  urged  to  it ;  the  point  is  extremely  sacred ; 
our  beloved  English  might  here  be  extensively  devel- 
oped. Its  Doric  branch  might  be  cultivated,  too,  with  ex- 
cellent effect.  Incalculable  riches  here,  in  the  Scotch ; 
as  Burns,  the  unsurpassable,  can  show  you.  What  a 
word,  for  instance,  is  "  Auld  Lang  Syne."  A  whole  vol- 
ume in  itself!  Felicitous  the  man,  who,  in  the  crisis  of 
a  speech,  succeeds  in  striking  forth  such  an  expression. 
Never  will  his  hearers  forget  the  moment.  As  in  one 
of  the  glens  on  a  mountain-side,  or  on  some  of  the  jut- 
tings  of  a  river's  bank,  there  are  certain  unequaled  points 


480         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

of  scenery,  so  is  it  with  such  felicities  in  a  mighty  lan- 
guage ;  to  which  new  felicities  .may  ever  afresh  be  added. 
The  writer  of  whom  it  can  be  asserted  that  he  has  in- 
vented a  household  word  has  gained  one  of  the  brightest 
laurels.  Thus  Milton  gave  us  this  expression— 
"The  sober  certainty  of  waking  bliss." 

Chatham  in  the  subjoined,  goes  to  Shakespeare  for  a 
household  word;  it  was  during  the  American  War  of 
Revolution : 

"  But  yesterday,  and  England  might  have  stood  against  the 
world;  now,  none  so  poor  to  do  her  reverence." 

Dryden  gives  us  this — 

"  Great  wits  are  sure  to  madness  near  allied." 
Pope  gives  us — 

"  The  proper  study  of  mankind  is  man." 
Cowper  invents  the  expression — 

"  The  cup  that  cheers  but  not  inebriates." 

The  student  of  English  can  not  do  better  than  to  collect 
together  all  such  expressions,  as  the  reading  of  his  whole 
life  will  bring  before  him. 

CXCVII.  Pretended  Depreciation,  as  it  comes  from 
the  heart,  very  naturally  deserves  admission ;  as  when 
Pat  says  of  his  sweetheart  that  she  is— 

"The  thief  of  the  world;" 

or  when  he  assures  her  that  she  has  been  the  death  of 
many  a  man. 

CXCVIII.  Rhetorical  Use  of  the  Past,  a  figure  of  which 
a  master  of  pathos  can  make  dexterous  use  in  the  pulpit. 
Exhibit  to  one  of  us  your  hearer  laid  on  his  dying-bed ; 
or  under  summons  before  the  bar  of  doom ;  and  stand- 
ing there,  with  God  full  and  clear  in  front.  The  past  un- 
questionably is  rich  in  scenes  of  moral  tragedy  or  of  the 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  481 

humorous, which  offer  themselves  to  the  orator;  and  he 
is  flat  and  tame  who  never  avails  his  cause  of  them.  Why 
dost  thou  never  make  schoolboy  days  return?  or  our 
time  of  training  at  our  mother's  knee  ?  or  those  minutes 
when  the  family  was  gathered  at  our  mother's  death- 
bed ?  Thus  continually  Christian  oratory  wields  figures 
that  are  most  admirably  adapted  to  it.  Listen  to  the 
wise  statements  in  Bascom's  work  on  "  The  Philosophy 
of  Rhetoric:" 

"  Revelation  enlarges  the  sphere  of  conscience,  not  by  arbi- 
trary commands,  but  by  bringing  to  light  new  and  fundamental 
facts,  in  themselves  inclusive  of  old  duties,  and  imposing  fresh 
ones.  Religion  of  necessity  thus  involves  and  includes  the 
highest  morality;  because  its  peculiar  injunctions  are,  in  their 
consequences,  more  weighty  than  any  other;  because  the  mi- 
nor duties  of  man  to  man  it  enforces  from  a  new  and  higher 
stand-point  —  a  broader  apprehension  of  the  relations  from 
which  they  spring  and  the  results  to  which  they  lead ;  and  be- 
cause in  its  own  promises  and  threatenings,  and  the  power  with 
which  it  arouses  the  affections,  it  adopts  and  reinvigorates  the 
moral  law.  There  thus  arises  sacred  eloquence — the  eloquence 
of  a  Christian  pulpit,  immeasurably  superior  in  the  motives  and 
emotions  with  which  it  urges  the  mind  and  heart.  The  imme- 
diate consequences  of  virtue  and  vice  are  lost  in  their  more 
permanent  results;  the  breadth  of  eternity  is  given  to  action; 
the  grace  of  God  stoops  to  bless  man  to  his  utmost  capacity; 
the  justice  of  God  walls  in  and  pursues  his  transgressions.  In 
weight,  terror,  sublimity,  joy,  and  hope,  no  motives  can  for  an 
instant  compare  with  those  which  in  sacred  eloquence  inspire 
and  overpower  the  mind.  Virtue  is  caught  up  and  inwrapped 
with  the  ineffable  glory  of  God ;  the  virtuous  man  is  caught  up 
and  inwrapped  in  the  glory  of  an  incarnate  Christ." 

CXCIX.  Rhetorical  Use  of  the  Future.  A  weapon 
this  capable  of  very  abundant,  solemn,  appropriate  use. 
Let  the  pulpit  orator  muse  on  it  much.  On  it  we  pur- 
posely avoid  saying  more ;  laying  merely  before  you  an  ex- 
ample, translated  by  us  from  the  French  of  Victor  Hugo: 

H  H 


482         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"  THE    END    OF    THE    JOURNEY.       A    VOICE     FROM    THE     TOMB- 
STONES. 

I. 

*  Mortal,  wherever  hastens  on  thy  path, 

Whoever  thou  mayst  be  that  passest  by, 
By  pain  or  joy  impelPd,  by  love  or  wrath, 

Here  ends  thy  journey — here  thy  pride  shall  lie. 

ii. 
"  Upon  this  broken  marble  rest  a  while, 

Like  weary  seaman  on  a  wreck-strewn  shore; 
We,  too,  have  felt  life's  passion,  pain,  and  guile; 
The  burden  and  the  strife  oppress  no  more. 

in. 
"  These  stones  around  impressive  speak  to  thee ; 

Escape  there's  none,  by  iron  circle  bound ; 
Doth  not  presaging  thought  already  see 

Thy  name  engraven  o'er  some  fated  mound  ? 

IV. 

"  Press  not  these  heaps  with  thoughtless,  haughty  foot; 

As  low  as  mine  thy  lofty  head  thou'lt  lay ; 
Each  hour  some  heart  grows  faint,  some  lip  grows  mute ; 
Know'st  thou  the  blast  that  bears  thy  dust  away  ? 

v. 
"  Farewell !     But  to  thy  spirit  oft  be  told 

What  mystic  secrets  'neath  these  tombstones  lie. 
A  few  dry  bones  ?     A  spadeful  of  dark  mould  ? 
Nothing,  perchance  ? — Thine  all — Eternity ! 

VI. 

"  When  next  assails  temptation's  fiery  hour, 

To  siren  pleasures  do  not  thou  give  way. 
Resist !     Look  up  !     Invoke  Jehovah's  power. 
Think  thou  shalt  die;  revive;  and  live  for  aye." 

CC.  Ascription  of  Rationality  to  the,  Lower  Animals. 
The  finest  example  of  this  in  literature,  known  to  us,  is 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  483 

in  a  piece  by  the  German,  Chamisso — a  commentary,  un- 
intentionally, in  defense  of  the  speaking  of  Balaam's  ass. 
To  imagine  that  the  animal  literally  spoke,  in  a  ration- 
ality of  its  own,  is  to  give  to  the  Christian  cause  a 
weakness  that  would  be  indefensible.  It  was  an  angel 
that  spoke;  no  power  of  speech  was  ever  imparted  to 
any  mere  animal.  It  is,  however,  of  value  to  show  and 
to  feel  that  speech  can  seem  to  issue  from  animal  lips, 
yet  without  offending  good  taste.  All  the  better  for  the 
Bible  cause  that  Chamisso  had  no  recollection,  at  the 
moment,  of  the  Bible  incident.  For  a  horse,  dog,  or  ass 
to  seem  to  speak,  or  to  have  speech  ascribed  to  them, 
does  not  in  the  least  violate  the  aesthetic. 

"  The  steed  seemed  to  answer,  the  lightning-eyed, 
*  I've  brought  you  his  message  !'     Then  reeled  and  died." 

(See  poem  on  pages  200,  201.)  We  invite  all  our  readers 
to  take  the  same  reverential  position  as  to  the  remarkable 
but  very  defensible  case  of  Balaam,  which  we  take*  and 
defend.  Not  doth  the  sacred  narrative  require  us  to  hold 
literal  speech  by  the  bodily  organs  and  by  the  intellect  of 
the  animal — but  speech  by  an  angelic  minister,  who  could 
speak  as  easily  from  an  animal's  mouth  as  from  any  other 
place.  Then  weigh  our  argument  from  literature  and 
from  figures— an  argument  entirely  new.  The  cry  of  ridi- 
cule based  on  the  narrative  in  Numbers  xxii.,  22-35,  is 
hostile  to  one  of  the  widest  and  deepest  tendencies  in 
literature  and  in  man's  nature ;  for  in  literature,  in  every 
nation  where  a  literature  exists,  the  lower  animals  have, 
rhetorically,  speech  and  rationality  ascribed  to  them — 
as  ^Esop,  Burns,  and  Fontaine  show  you  ;  and  so  to 
cloak  an  angel  under  an  animal's  guise  was  to  make 
use  of  a  chief  standing  literary  mode.  Nay,  to  go  even 
deeper,  this  tendency,  to  ascribe  figuratively  speech  to 
the  lower  creatures,  is  fostered  by  the  aptitude  in  man 
to  take  these  creatures  under  his  kindly  care, -and  to 
surround  his  borne  by  protection  extended  to  them ; 


484          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

as  when  Alexander  took  his  Bucephalus  with  him  in 
many  a  campaign,  or  when  Sir  Walter  Scott  had  his 
dog  Maida  lying  at  his  feet  in  his  study.  How  very 
much  of  the  look  of  home  would  a  farmstead  lose  from 
about  it,  if  animals,  so  eloquently  called  "  domestic," 
were  not  continually  round  the  house?  Read  Burns's 
"  Salutation  to  his  Old  Mare  on  New-year's-day  Morn- 
ing," as  if  that  clarling  old  personage  were  indeed  a  priv- 
ileged partner  in  his  dearest  history  and  in  his  heart.  We 
maintain  that  our  topic  of  figures  shows  that  this  pas- 
sage in  Numbers  is  in  harmony  with  reason,  with  kindly 
feeling,  with  genial  civilization,  and  with  one  of  the  old- 
est, widest,  most  abiding  tendencies  in  all  literature. 

CCI.  Nicknames  demand  a  place  among  figures.  We 
well  know  that  something  is  sought  for,  and  may  be 
gained,  by  calling  a  certain  city  Goth'am,  and  its  inhab- 
itants Gothamites.  To  be  s*ure,  pathos  itself  and  indig- 
nation are  not  themselves  figures ;  but  those  changes  in 
language  which  are  made  for  the  purpose  of  using  as 
weapons  to  produce  such  feelings  with,  these  are  figures ; 
and  strong  for  war  is  he  who  hath  them  in  his  armory. 
Edinburgh  is  lovingly  termed  not  only  "  Modern  Athens," 
but  "  Auld  Reekie ;"  just  as  his  veterans  named  him  "  the 
Little  Corporal,"  when  Napoleon  led  them  to  destiny— 
in  truth,  hurled  them  on  the  sharp  edge  and  pitiless  flint 
of  the  rock.  On  the  other  side  of  the  struggle,  the  Prus- 
sian soldier  Blucher  gained  for  himself  the  epithet  "  Mar- 
shal Forwards,"  and  England's  Wellington  "the  Iron 
Duke  ;"  while  in  a  very  different  sphere  and  very  influen- 
tial over  all  Scotland,  Dr.  Thomas  Guthrie,  so  sainted 
and .  so  humorous,  was  hailed  and  was  dear  as  "  Lang 
Tarn  Guthrie."  Even  appellations  that  seem  far  too  fa- 
miliar are  intended  to  express  affection,  as  in  the  popular 
names  of  states  and  cities  of  our  country  :  Virginia  being 
"the  Old  Dominion;"  Rhode  Island, "  Little  Rhody;" 
Ohio,  ".the  Buckeye  State ;"  Kentucky,  "  the  Corncrack- 
er;"  Delaware,  "  the  Blue  Hen's  Chicken;"  Wisconsin, 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  485 

"  the  Badger  State  ;"  while  Washington  is,  or  was,  "  the 
City  of  Magnificent  Distances ;"  and  Boston  is  "  the 
Hub."  The  description  of  a  country  is  not  a  national 
name :  thus  North  Britain  is  a  description,  Scotland 
is  a  national  name ;  the  United  States  of  the  Neth- 
erlands is  a  description,  Belgium  is  a  national  name. 
The  United  States  is  a  mere  description :  our  Fatherland 
needs  a  national  name  ;  it  ought  to  be  deemed  as  having 
now  reached  its  majority ;  it  is  high  time  to  be  baptized. 

CCII.  The  Doric— to  that  let  us  attend.  All  through 
this  work  have  we  done  so.  The  Scottish  of  Allan 
Ramsay,  Robert  Burns,  and  Sir  Walter  is  as  mighty 
a  thing  to  our  English,  as  is  to  the  Attic  Greek  the 
dialect  of  Theocritus,  with  its  broad  a's,  and  its  rural 
tones  and  odors;  while  we  think  of  Jeanie  Deans,  and 
Eddie  Ochiltrie,  and  Baillie  Nicol  Jarvie,  and  Cuddie 
Headrig,  and  Burns's  Daisy  that  will  never  fade,  and 
bonnie  Doon  that  will  ever  sing  and  brighten  in  the 
summer  beam  ;  nay,  we  hear  that  national  war-ode — the 
best  war-lyric  ever  sung — "  Scots  wha  hae  wi'  Wallace 
bled" — that  came  on  the  soul  of  the  great  Plowman  like 
winter*  lightnings,  that  are  born  from  out  of  midnight 
and  storm-rains.  So,  too,  will  you  get  your  soul-saturated 
by  nature,  by  your  paying  a  visit,  not  always  to  the  vil- 
lage, but  to  the  clachan ;  or  by  roaming  through  the 
glen  or  the  strath;  or  by  a  sail  on  the  loch, where,  high 
over  you,  the  mountain  eagle  poises  its  wide  wings,  and 
meditates,  king-like,  amid  its  flight. 

CCIII.  Impersonation,  or  Character-acting,  is  a  figure 
that  requires  and  admits  of  great  ability  on  the  part  of 
speaker  or  writer:  the  person  introduced  speaking  as 
shall  become  him.  Why  not  introduce  Abraham  ad- 
dressing the  fires  of  Sodom ;  or  Moses  the  passions  of 
Pharaoh ;  or  Elijah  the  priests  of  Baal ;  or  even  Jesus 
the  tempests  of  the  lake,  or  the  sins  and  crimes  and 
woes  of  the  world  ?  Or  Death  or  War  might  declaim,  so 
as  to  thrill  every  heart.  Or  any  noted  historic  charac- 


486         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


ter.  It  is  astonishing  that  any  one's  conscience  can  per- 
mit him  to  fill  a  pulpit,  and  yet  let  that  pulpit  be  life- 
less. Isa.  i.,  II,  24.  Almost  a  volume  might  be  written 
on  this. 

CCIV.  The  Materialistic  is  a  figure  of  great  value,  no- 
bly common  in  the  original  Hebrew  of  the  Old  Testa- 
ment— a  moulder  of  style  from  which  might  be  obtained 
invaluable  influences  by  the  preachers  of  the  day,  and 
through  them  by  the  literature  of  the  age.  It  is  the 
Hebrew  of  the  Old  Testament  of  which  we  speak.  It 
is  so  strenuous  and  muscular  and  underived  and  wild  and 
unexhausted.  Nay,  even  those  who  are  so  unblest  as  to 
be  ignorant  of  Hebrew  are  quite  capable  of  studying 
Professor  Alexander  of  Princeton  on  the  Psalms,  and 
will  unite  with  us  in  holding  the  vast  importance  of 
the  Hebrew  as  a  squrce  of  style.  Shame  to  the  Gospel 
orator  who  takes  not  a  glimpse  of  Hebrew  once  a  day. 

Very  frequently  the  wild  scent  evaporates  in  our  com- 
mon English  version,  as  would  from  the  mountain  heath- 
er the  odor  if  it  were  carried  down  to  the  Lowlands. 
Consult  Alexander  on  the  Psalms,  and  delight  thyself  in 
a  hundred  instances.  In  Psalm  li.,  17,  we  read : 

"  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit ;  a  broken  and  a 
contrite  heart,  O  God,  Thou  wilt  not  despise." 

In  the  Hebrew  it  reads  thus : 

"The  sacrifices  of  God  a  broken  spirit;  a  heart  broken  and 
crushed,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise." 

Notice  the  absence  of  the  verb  "  are ;"  learn  how  you 
may  invigorate  your  style  by  omitting  verbs ;  a  fact  too 
little  known.  Then  listen  to  Alexander : 

"There  is  great  significance  and  beauty  in  what  seems  at 
first  to  be  a  solecism  in  the  language  of  the  first  clause.  '  The 
sacrifice  of  God  is  a  broken  spirit '  might  seem  to  be  a  more  cor- 
rect expression ;  but  it  would  have  failed  to  suggest  the  strik- 
ing and  important  thought  that  one  such  heart  or  spirit  is 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  487 

equivalent  to  all  the  various  and  complicated  sacrifices  of  the 
ritual." 

Then  again : 

"  The  use  of  the  word  contrite  in  the  English  versions  mars 
the  beauty  of  the  metaphor,  because  that  term  is  confined  to 
the  dialect  of  theology,  whereas  the  Latin  contritum,  from  which 
it  was  borrowed,  as  well  as  the  original  expression,  exactly  cor- 
responds to  broken,  both  in  its  literal  and  figurative  usage." 

A  reader  quite  void  of  the  grand  old  original  may  ob- 
tain inestimable  benefits,  of  a  literary  sort,  from  the 
Princeton  Professor;  as  any  man  may  astound  himself 
by  reading  the  Psalms  with  Alexander  in  hand.  Be  kind 
enough  to  yourself  to  buy  him  to-morrow. 

COY.  The  Singular  Number  is  often  charm  and 
strength.  Of  this  too  is  the  Hebrew  full.  In  Psalm 
lv.,  6,  we  have  this  in  our  version : 

"And  I  said,  Oh  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove ;  for  then  would 
I  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest." 

But  thus  reads  the  original  before  us : 

"And  I  said,  Who  will  give  me  a  pinion  like  the  dove?  I  will 
fly  away,  and  be  at  rest." 

In  Psa.  Ixviii.,  15,  you  see  this  in  the  Hebrew: 

"A  mount  of  God,  Mount  Bashan!  A  mount  of  peaks  is 
Mount  Bashan!  Why  will  ye  watch?  Hills!  Ridges!  The 
hill  God  hath  desired  for  His  dwelling!  Yea,  Jehovah  will  in- 
habit it  forever." 

Says  Alexander:  > 

"A  mount  of  peaks  or  ridges,  not  a  detached  mountain,  but 
a  chain  with  many  lofty  summits,  forming  the  northern  boundary 
of  Bashan.  At  the  same  time,  the  expressions  of  this  verse 
would  necessarily  suggest  the  idea  of  great  states  or  kingdoms 
of  which  each  mountain  is  the  standing  symbol." 

The  "  hills,"  the  "  ridges,"  are  the  mountains  of  the 
heathen  world,  spoken  of  here  as  watching,  with  hostility 


488          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

that  Hill  of  Zion  and  of  Bashan  whereon  God  specially 
loves  to  dwell  on  earth,  and  sit  throned. 

CCVI.  Double  Nouns  and  other  Double  Words  are 
figurative  usages  that  may  often  be  met  with,  yet  which 
we  have  never  seen  specified,  or  dreamed  of,  as  figures. 
Luther,  in  his  admirable  version  of  the  Bible,  presents  to 
us  a  specimen.  The  silver  pieces  coined  from  the  aton- 
ing blood  are  called  in  the  English  translation  "  the 
price  of  blood/'  Luther,  in  his  mighty  German,  calls 
them  "blood -money"  ("  blut-gelt  ")  —  a  double  noun. 
Very  many  are  in  German ;  that  language  owes  a  very 
great  deal  of  its  force  to  this  usage ;  our  language  is  as 
capable  of  adopting  it.  It  has  so  done  in  the  unsurpas- 
sable word  "-Father-land."  Burns  speaks  of  patriot- 
warriors,  striding,  for  their  country,  through  death  to 
victory,  as  being  "  red-wat-shod  " — an  adjective  that  was 
greatly  admired  by  Dr.  Chalmers.  We  have  translated 
"  The  Child's  Ascension,"  a  piece  with  two  specimens  in 
it,  by  Charles  Loyson,  the  celebrated  P&re  Hyacinthe : 

"  Flashing  from  heaven's  height 

An  Angel's  wings  a  cradle  half  enshade, 
Where,  pausing  on  his  glorious  flight, 

He  gazed  upon  a  child  in  slumber  laid ; 
In  whose  young  form,  so  heavenly  calm  and  bright, 

In  sweetest  smiles  of  love  and  peace  arrayed, 
He  deemed  he  saw  himself  reflected  there, 

Like  a  star  mirrored  in  a  fountain  fair. 

"The  witchery  of  infant  gentleness 

Held  the  Immortal  raptured  o'er  the  place. 
How  sacred  seemed  that  slumber  in  his  eyes; 

The  breathing  from  those  lips  of  roses     * 
Sounded  like  whisper'd  music  of  the  skies. 

On  the  pure  brow  what  innocence  reposes! 
A  holy  halo  lies 

On  the  rich  ringlets  floating  playfully; 
While  glints  of  lustre  rest 

Upon  the  babe's  soft  hands  of  snowy  die, 
Clasped  peacefully  upon  a  lily  breast. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  489 

"  The  Angel  smiled  this  form  of  love  to  see ; 
But  o'er  his  brow  a  shade  passed  suddenly ; 
He  turned  aside,  a  long,  deep  sigh  to  heave : 
*  That  little  breast  is  doomed  to  grieve 

'Neath  tempests  yet  to  be ! 

Heart-storms  that  bend  the  oak  and  crush  the  flower ! 
Shall  hiss  the  arrow  of  misfortune's  hour ! 
By  many  a  deadly  pang  shalt  thou  be  tried, 
Nor  wit  nor  virtue  turn  those  poison'd  darts  aside. 
Those  soft  shut  eyes  shall  ope  with  many  a  tear. 
The  breast  on  which  such  placid  slumber  lies 
Shall  heave  in  earthquake-shocks  of  crime  or  fear.' 

"A  holy  grief  the  Angel's  spirit  moved; 

Was  it  a  tear  he  shed  ? 
His  eye,  petitioning,  sought  the  Christ  he  loved. 

Messiah  saw  and  answered.  •  On  the  bed, 
O  Seraph,  thy  kind  arms  have  pressed. 
His  eyelids  and  his  lip  he  kissed. 

*  Be  happy !'  he  exclaimed.     The  child  is  dead  !" 

CCVII.  Celerity  constitutes  a  figure,  as  to  Place,  or  as 
to  Time.  As  if  we  were  to  say,  "  This  very  night  you 
should  buy  a  copy  of  '  Plutarch's  Lives.' "  It  is  plain 
to  be  seen  that  fleetness  is  a  point  of  consideration  that 
can  not  but  be  essentially  rhetorical.  Turn  to  Psa.  Ixiv., 
7 ;  in  the  original  it  thus  reads : 

"  But  God  has  shot  them — with  an  arrow — suddenly !  Theirs 
are  the  wounds." 

By  an  abrupt  but  beautiful  transition  he  describes  the 
tables  as  completely  turned  upon  the  enemy.  Just  as 
they  are  about  to  shoot  an  arrow  suddenly  at  the  right- 
eous, God  shoots  an  arrow  suddenly  at,  them.  The 
wounds  which  they  intended  to  inflict  on  others  have 
become  their  own.  When  they  thought  to  strike  others, 
they  were  struck  themselves.  Such  words  as  "  Quick  !" 
"  Haste  thee  !"  "  Delay  not !"  are,  often,  the  very  gun- 
powder that  oratory  uses  to  speed  its  bullets  withal. 


490         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Grains  of  which  powder  may,  separately,  be  very  minute 
and  of  very  small  worth,  yet  may  they  still  be  grains  of 
gunpowder,  on  which  the  very  fate  of  a  battle  may  turn 
— an  illustration  not  ill  fitted  to  exhibit  to  you  the  po- 
sition which,  in  literature,  figures  of  speech,  at  their  low- 
est even,  occupy;  and  which  demand  the  care  of  the 
greatest  chiefs  of  intellect. 

Celerity  in  the  movement  of  the  mind,  when  it  passes 
from  the  outward  emblem  to  the  inward  feeling,  is  often 
manifested  by  leaving  the  application  unuttered ;  as  in 
the  expressive  saying  of  the  Scottish  Celts,  born  orators: 

"  I  will  add  a  stone  to  your  cairn ;" 

which  means,  "  I  will  honor  and  bless  your 'memory ;"  a 
cairn  being  a  heap  of  stones  over  the  dead,  a  heap  which 
the  country  people  thought  it  unlucky  to  pass  without 
throwing  an  additional  stone  on  the  heap.  Exceedingly 
emphatic  the  leaving  the  mental  interpretation  unex- 
pressed. Let  this  practice  be  often  yours. 

CCVIII.  Epithetic,  the  use  of  striking  epithets,  not 
nicknames,  may  impart  so  characteristic  an  expression 
to  an  author's  productions  as  to  call  for  a  special  place 
as  a  figure.  Our  professional  occupation  brings  old  Ho- 
mer before  us  so  continually  that  we  are  led  to  think  of 
epithets  almost  every  hour  of  the  day.  To  us  his  cata- 
logue of  the  ships  is  exquisite ;  while  we  visit,  with  rapt 
step  and  rapt  gaze,  Eleon  with  many  a  highland  forest ; 
and  Mykalessus,  roomy  for  the  choral  dance ;  and  Arn6, 
plenteous  with  its  bunches  of  the  grape ;  and  Thesbe, 
abounding  in  doves.  If  it  be  true,  what  is  said,  that  a 
certain  college  in  our  land  purposely  omits  the  Cata- 
logue of  the  Achaean  and  Trojan  army,  in  Book  Second, 
from  the  opening  examination  of  students  who  are  of- 
fering themselves  to  enter,  that  college  convicts  itself 
of  a  great  mistake,  for  no  more  poetic  production  ever 
came  from  the  mind  of  bard;  so  much  so,  that  the  epi- 
thets there  often  moisten  our  eyes  with  very  tears  of 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  49 1 

ecstasy.  Every  one  who  would  cultivate  his  style  on 
every  side  should  foster  epithetic  power,  and  should  do 
so  specially  in  the  pages  of  Homer,  the  unsurpassable. 
The  blind  old  singer  has  thus  forced  the  feeling  on  us, 
if  it  be  perchance  somewhat  illogical,  that  though  epi- 
thets may  be  absorbed  among  figures  in  general,  yet 
are  they  capable  of  imparting  such  a  tone,  so  peculiar, 
that  nothing  else  can ;  and  we  are  constrained  to  classify 
the  epithetic  as  a  capability  in  language — a  capability 
that  is  very  distinctive.  And  no  one  can  indoctrinate 
you  so  deeply  into  this  great  point  as  Homer  is  able  to 
do  when  he  chants  of  Zeus,  the  Cloud-compeller ;  or  of 
the  sea,  thousand-laughtered.  Or  you  can  study  this 
great  point  in  the  recent  epithet  of  one,  who,  of  Shake- 
speare in  his  thirty-four  plays,  calls  him  "  the  Genius  of 
the  British  Isles." 

CCIX.  Passing  over  from  the  Literal  to  the  Figura- 
tive is  a  passage  at  arms  that  may  prove  itself  exqui- 
sitely beautiful.  In  Psa.  Ixv.,  7,  it  is  written  of  Jehovah : 

"  Stilling  the  roar  of  seas,  the  roar  of  their  waves,  the  tumult 
of  nations." 

Says  Alexander : 

"  There  is  here  a  beautiful  transition  from  the  literal  to  the 
figurative  use  of  the  same  language.  It  is  true,  in  the  strict 
sense,  that  God  stills  the  raging  of  the  seas ;  but  it  is  also  true 
that  He  subdues  the  commotion  of  human  societies  and  states, 
of  which  the  sea  is  a  natural  and  common  emblem ;  hence  he 
adds  in  express  terms,  *  the  tumult  of  nations.' " 

It  was  in  a  humorous  mood  that  a  minister,  when  he 
was  asked  what  he  had  in  his  carpet-bag  on  a  Saturday, 
replied — 

"  Dried  tongue." 
He  had  two  sermons  in  his  valise. 

In  the  invaluable  tract  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  George  S. 
Mott,  Presbyterian  pastor  of  Flemington,  we  meet  this 
"passing  over,"  in  his  "  Nurse  Them  at  Home:" 


492          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"There  is  an  old  saying,  'Hearth-fires  keep  off  wolves.'  If 
children  spend  their  evenings  in  the  streets,  they  are  exposed 
to  wolves.  Make  home  attractive,  and  then  the  howling  wolves 
of  temptation  will  be  kept  at  bay." 

CCX.  Threat  is  a  form  of  figure  that  arises  from  a 
minatory  state  of  mind ;  than  which  mental  condition 
there  is  no  other  more  prolific  of  figures.  .That  minatory 
state  itself  may  arise  from  love,  by  no  means  from  dis- 
like or  indifference  ;  thus  lately  we  heard  a  pastor,  most 
faithful  and  affectionate,  say  to  his  flock : 

"  Let  such  here  as  live  in  known  sin,  while  they  are  well  aware 
what  their  duty  is,  and  what  their  God  demands  from  them,  re- 
member that  at  the  judgment-day  I,  however  unwilling,  will  be 
compelled  to  be  a  witness  against  them." 

CCXI.  Repose.  Be  such  the  figure  that  closes  this 
chapter.  Far  from  skillful  is  he  in  eloquence  who  is  not 
both  skillful  and  frequent  in  this.  The  great  outbursts 
of  oratory  demand  to  be  relieved  by  rests  of  argument, 
of  mere  statement,  of  pity,  of  meditation,  of  whispering 
awe ;  like  a  pause  before  the  thunder  breaks — before  the 
roar  and  shriek  of  winds.  Permit  us  to  fancy  that  a  pul- 
pit orator,  after  a  vehement  storm  of  appeal  against 
vices,  paused  into  a  whisper  and  said : 

"  O  thou  Brow  of  the  Dead,  how  calm,  sad,  and  meditative 
thou  art !" 

What  immense  force  in  such  a  whisper ! 

As  we  will  not  again  in  this  volume  make  reference  to 
Demosthenes,  let  us  in  closing  this  chapter,  our  last  but 
two,  speak  of  his  death.  His  hour  came  to  die.  The 
old  man  had  taken  refuge  in  a  temple,  from  tyrants  and 
assassins.  A  troop  of  soldiers  surrounded  the  gates,  un- 
der the  command  of  one  Archias,  a  stage-player.  "  Come 
forth !"  they  cried,  with  brutal  mockeries,  which  he  re- 
garded not.  Their  leader  entering,  went  up  to  him,  try- 
ing to  allure  him  out  by  fair  promises.  "  Only  wait  a 
little,"  said  Demosthenes,  "  till  I  send  my  last  wishes  to 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  493 

those  at  home."  Retiring  to  the  shrine,  he  spread  parch- 
ment before  him,  as  if  he  meant  to  write ;  he  put  the  pen 
in  his  mouth,  and  gnawed  it  for  some  time,  as  if  medi- 
tating ;  and  then,  covering  his  head,  sat  reclining.  Soon 
the  poison  concealed  in  the  pen  began  to  work ;  he  un- 
covered his  head,  looked  up  in  the  face  of  Archias,  and 
said :  "  Now  you  may  act  the  part  of  Creon  in  the  play, 
and  cast  out  this  carcass  of  mine  unburied.  O  gracious 
Neptune,  I  quit  thy  temple  alive ;  but  the  Macedonians 
would  not  have  scrupled  to  profane  it  with  murder." 
By  this  time  he  could  not  stand.  He  desired  them  to 
support  him  as  he  staggered  toward  the  door.  In  at- 
tempting to  reach  it,  he  fell  beside  the  altar,  and  died 
with  a  groan. 


494          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

FIGURES    OF   RHETORIC. 
PART    NINETEENTH. 

Bulk. — Classicality. — Rally  ing-cries.  — Appeal  to  Knowl- 
edge.— Salutation. — Reverse. — Specification  of  Place. — 
Specification  of  Time. — Cry  of  Warning. — Familiarity. 
— Obverse. — Seven  Great  Points :  English  Language  not 
Half  Developed ;  Praise  of  the  Homely ;  Sources  of 
Figures  ;  Shakespeare's  Three  Giant  Faults ;  One  Hun- 
dred Figures  yet  Undiscovered ;  Ballads  Lauded;  Sug- 
gestiveness. — Medley,  Number  Second  and  Last. 

CCXII.  BULK.  A  queer  name  for  a  queer  figure.  As 
it  may  be  forced  in,  violently,  as  Onomatopy,  we  give  to 
it  very  few  lines.  It  is  a  way  of  representing  the  uncouth 
bulk  of  objects  by  the  clumsiness  or  the  size  and  num- 
ber of  the  words.  Virgil's  line  on  Polyphemus,  the  one- 
eyed  giant,  is  well  known : 

"Monstrumhorrendum,mforme,ingens,cui  lumen  ademptum;" 
of  which,  says  Bryce : 

"  This  line  is  composed  with  wonderful  skill.  The  spondees, 
the  equal  caesuras,  the  frequent  elisions,  and  the  harsh  sounds 
of  the  words,  most  admirably  express  the  nature  of  the  mon- 
strous Polyphemus." 

From  Milton,  the  heroic  and  indomitable,  we  cull 
these : 

"  Leviathan,  which  God  of  all  His  works 
Created  hugest  that  swim  the  ocean  stream." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  495 

Again,  of  Death : 

"  The  other  shape, 

If  shape  it  might  be  called,  that  shape  had  none 
'Distinguishable  in  member,  joint,  or  limb." 

CCXIII.  Classicality.  The  use  of  a  classical  expres- 
sion makes  a  fine  figure.  We  catalogue  this  as  a  Classic- 
ality, if  that  be  the  right  word.  When  you  use  it,  take 
care  that  the  expression  be  familiar.  We  favor  you  with 
an  instance  from  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  "  History  of  the 
World,"  with  which  he  sums  up  his  volume ;  after  so 
many  a  scene  of  battle-wreck  and  beheadal  had  passed 
before  him : 

"  O  eloquent,  just,  and  mightie  Death  !  whom  none  could  ad- 
vise, thou  hast  persuaded;  what  none  hath  dared,  thou  hast 
done-;  and  whom  all  the  world  hath  flattered,  thou  only  hast 
cast  out  of  the  world  and  despised ;  thou  hast  drawne  together 
all  the  farre-stretched  greatnesse,  all  the  pride,  crueltie,  and 
ambition  of  man,  and  covered  it  all  over  with  these  two  narrow 
words,  Hie  jacet." 

Think  of  this  brilliant  man  writing  these  words,  and  wait- 
ing for  the  headsman's  axe — every  uncertain  hour ! 

CCXIV.  Rallying-cries  make  a  figurative  usage  that 
is  rapid  and  arousing.  For  a  splendid  example  read 
again  and  again  Judges  vii.,  18-20.  If  you  are  so  lethar- 
gic as  not  to  turn  to  the  passages,  you  will  lose  a  great 
deal.  One  example,  we  dare  not  call  it  uninspired,  you 
will  find  in  the  address  of  the  Bruce  to  his  soldiers  at 
the  battle  of  Bannockburn ;  by  Burns : 

"Now's  the  day,  and  now's  the  hour; 
See  the  front  o'  battle  lour : 
See  approach  proud  Edward's  power — 
Chains  and  slavery !" 

Such  a  figure  as  this  would,  from  the  pulpit,  suit  admi- 
rably in  a  moment  of  true  enthusiasm.  We  hear  it  often 
from  the  Methodists ;  sometimes  with  genuine  effect.  If 


496          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

they  have  it  too  frequently,  which  we  assert  not,  the 
Presbyterians  have  it  too  seldom.  Cries — war-cries  and 
peace-cries,  and  cries  of  triumph  and  jubilee — would  come 
nobly  from  lips  all  aglow  with  God.  A  good  deal  more 
of  holy  passion,  if  you  please.  Lay  much  to  heart,  this 
subject  of  figures.  Give  us  a  rallying-cry  now  and  then. 
The  soldiers  of  the  King  are  soon  to  go  into  battle ;  and 
that,  one  peculiarly  trying. 

CCXV.  Appeal  to  Knowledge  is  often  used.  Take 
Southey's — well  remembered — from  his  "  Battle  of  Blen- 
heim :" 

"With  fire  and  sword  the  country  round  was  wasted  far  and 

wide, 

And  many  a  hapless  mother,  there,  and  new-born  baby,  died ; 
But  things  like  that,  you  know,  must  be 
At  every  famous  victory." 

CCXVI.  Reverse.  This  is  a  use  of  words  and  of  the 
ideas  which  they  convey  that  is  adapted  to  leave  a  very 
vivid  impression.  Of  Hazlitt,  the  opinion  prevailed  that 
he  was  incapable  of  appreciating  a  writer  until  the  writer 
was  dead :  therefore  Professor  Wilson  affirmed  that  Haz- 
litt reversed  the  proverb,  and  thought  a  dead  ass  better 
than  a  living  lion.  Mark  how  cleverly  Christopher  North 
reverses  the  words  of  the  proverb.  So  it  was  a  smart 
hit  of  the  Yankee,  who  said  that  if  something  did  not 
turn  up,  he  would  turn  up  something. 

CCXVIL  Specification  of  Place  is  our  name  for  that 
use  of  locality  which  brings  it  intensely  before  us.  This 
figure  is  often  joined  to  CCXVIII.,  Specification  of  Time. 
Creasy  thus  begins  his  account  of  the  first  fifteen  of  his 
"  Decisive  Battles  of  the  World  :" 

"  Two  thousand  three  hundred  and  forty  years  ago,  a  council 
of  Athenian  officers  was  summoned  on  the  slope  of  one  of  the 
mountains  fhat  look  over  the  plain  of  Marathon,  on  the  eastern 
coast  of  Attica." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  497 

When  he  comes  to  speak  of  his  tenth  battle,  or  contest — 
the  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada — he  thus  commences, 
availing  himself  once  more  of  place ;  and  we  forthwith 
feel  the  effect : 

"On  the  afternoon  of  the  iQth  of  July,  A.D.  1588,  a  group  of 
English  captains  was  collected  at  the  Bowling  Green,  on  the 
Hoe,  at  Plymouth,  whose  equals  have  never  before  or  since 
been  brought  together,  even  at  that  favorite  mustering-place  of 
the  heroes  of  the  British  navy." 

Mark,  too,  the  effect  of  the  specific  statement  of  time  in 
both  of  these  quotations. 

Taine,  in  his  very  able  "  History  of  English  Litera- 
ture," gives  us  the  departure  of  the  Normans  from  France 
to  conquer  England.  How  graphic  do  place  and  time 
help  to  make  the  scene : 

"On  the  2yth  of  September,  1066,  at  the  mouth  of  the  Somme, 
there  was  a  great  sight  to  be  seen :  four  hundred  large  sailing 
vessels,  more  than  a  thousand  transports,  and  sixty  thousand 
men  were  on  the  point  of  embarking.  The  sun  shone  splen- 
didly after  long  rain ;  trumpets  sounded ;  the  cries  of  this  armed 
multitude  rose  to  heaven ;  on  the  far  horizon,  on  the  shore,  on 
the  wide-spreading  river,  on  the  sea,  which  opens  out  thence 
broad  and  shining,  masts  and  sails  extended  like  a  forest;  the 
enormous  fleet  set  out  wafted  by  the  south  wind." 

CCXIX.  Cry  of  Warning  is  a  figure  intensely  rhetor- 
ical ;  as  when  couched  in  such  words  as  "  Hush !"  "  Be- 
ware !"  "  Listen  !"  You  have  laughed  at  the  story  told 
so  cleverly  by  Paul  Louis  Courier  (1772-1825)  of  his  ter- 
rific adventure  in  Calabria.  He  and  a  young  friend  had 
to  spend  the  night  in  a  loft,  to  which  they  had  to  mount 
seven  or  eight  feet  by  a  ladder,  in  a  charcoal-burner's 
hut,  in  a  very  savage  part  of  the  country.  Early  in  the 
night  Courier  heard  the  man  and  wife  consulting  togeth- 
er: "Well,  come  now,  must  we  kill  them  both?"  The 
wife  replied,  "  Yes."  Just  before  daybreak,  Courier  saw 
their  host,  barefooted,  with  an  immense  knife  between 

I  I 


498          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

his  teeth,  and  his  wife  behind  him,  steal  into  the  garret. 
The  woman,  in  a  low  voice,  shading  a  lamp  with  her 
hand,  said  to  her  husband,  "  Softly  !  go  softly  !"  I  quote 
Courier's  own  words : 

"  Approaching  the  head  of  the  bed,  where  my  poor  young 
friend,  with  his  throat  bare,  was  lying,  with  one  hand  the  mon- 
ster grasped  the  knife,  and  with  the  other — he  seized  a  ham 
which  hung  from  the  ceiling,  cut  a  slice,  and  retired  as  he  had 


It  was  a  false  alarm — but  a  mighty  one  while  it  lasted. 
The  two  victims,  who  were  so  ruthlessly  doomed  to  die, 
were  two  fat  chickens  for  the  travelers'  breakfast. 

We  have  preferred  this  illustration,  in  order  to  guard 
you  once  more  against  all  sham  in  the  figurative.  Let 
every  figure  you  use  be  expressive,  naturally  and  honest- 
ly, of  the  passion  fitted  for  and  properly  belonging  to  the 
idea  that  rules  and  should  rule  and  monopolize  you  at 
the  moment.  Be  severely  honest  and  simple.  If  you 
are  not,  you  will,  sooner  or  later,  be  sure  to  make  a  fool 
of  yourself — what  the  Scotch,  in  their  inimitable  Doric, 
call  a  gowk  or  gomeril.  Nay,  some  scornful  providence 
may  come  down  on  you ;  as  once  on  a  time,  just  as  a 
young  preacher  had  exploded  a  most  astounding  para- 
graph, a  jackass  at  the  church  door  began  a  lengthy  and 
very  competitive  bray;  and  an  irreverent  hearer  cried 
out, 

"  One  at  a  time,  gentlemen,  if  you  please." 

However,  for  all  that,  a  cry  of  warning  is  precisely  the 
thing,  if  it  be  honest. 

CCXX.  Familiarity  is  legitimate  and  excellent  at  the 
suitable  place.  We  mean  something  different  from  the 
homely.  You  meet  with  it  precisely  in  *  the  following, 
from  stalwart  Luther's  "  Table-Talk  :" 

"When  Jesus  Christ  was  born,  He  doubtless  cried  and  wept 
like  other  children,  and  His  mother  tended  Him  as  other  moth- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  499 

ers  tend  their  children.  As  He  grew  up  He  was  submissive  to 
His  parents,  and  waited  on  them,  and  carried  His  supposed  fa- 
ther's dinner  to  him ;  and  when  He  came  back,  Mary  no  doubt 
often  said,  *  My  dear  little  Jesus,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  again.' " 

To  us  this  is  inimitable.  But  be  on  your  guard,  especial- 
ly in  prayer.  There  is  a  familiarity  that  is  childlike,  and 
is  delightful ;  but  there  is  another  sort  of  it  that  is  child- 
ish and  irreverent.  Particularly,  never  say  laughable 
things  in  the  pulpit.  Dr.  Thomas  Guthrie,  the  most 
genial  and  victorious  wit  of  his  day  on  the  platform, 
never  once,  in  all  his  life,  excited  a  smile  from  the  pulpit. 
It  is  utterly  vain  for  any  one,  therefore,  to  excuse  his  pul- 
pit jocularities  and  buffooneries  on  the  ground  that  he  is 
a  natural-born  humorist.  Not  half  so  much  so  as  Thom- 
as Guthrie  was.  But  that  great  man  respected  God's 
pulpit  far  too  much  to  smirk  and  laugh  there.  Almighty 
God  does  not  mean  to  keep  a  jester  in  His  court. 

CCXXI.  The  Obverse  is  a  figure  prominently  brought 
forward  by  Minto,  in  his  able  volume  on  "  English  Prose 
Literature,"  page  119: 

"  Macaulay  deals  very  largely  in  what  is  technically  known 
as  obverse  statement;  and  gives  it  a  peculiar  abrupt  point,  by 
denying  the  negative  before  affirming  the  positive.  Before  af- 
firming that  a  certain  form  of  government  prevailed  in  one 
tract  of  country,  he  affirms  that  it  did  not  prevail  in  another. 

"As  another  example,  take  the  following  passage  from  a  dis- 
quisition on  the  style  of  Johnson: 

" '  Mannerism  is  pardonable,  and  is  sometimes  even  agreea- 
ble, when  the  manner,  though  vicious,  is  natural.  Few  readers, 
for  example,  would  be  willing  to  part  with  the  mannerism  of 
Milton  or  of  Burke.  But  a  mannerism  which  does  not  sit  easy 
on  the  mannerist,  which  has  been  adopted  on  principle,  and 
which  can  be  sustained  only  by  constant  effort,  is  always  of- 
fensive, and  such  is  the  mannerism  of  Johnson.' 

"  There  is  a  good  deal  of  antithetic  pungency  in  thus  taking 
the  obverse  first.  We  expect  from  the  general  tone  of  his  re- 
marks that  he  means  to  condemn  the  mannerism  of  Johnson, 


500          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

and  we  start  with  surprise  when  he  abruptly  declares  that 
'  mannerism  is  pardonable.'  What  ?  flashes  across  our  minds. 
Johnson's  mannerism  ?  We  eagerly  read  on,  and  are  pleasing- 
ly reassured  when  we  see  the  qualification — 'when  the  manner, 
though  vicious,  is  natural.'  Nor  is  this  the  only  startle  we  re- 
ceive in  the  course  of  the  short  paragraph ;  there  is  another 
shock  in  reserve  to  keep  our  attention  awake.  We  have  been 
called  away  from  some  minute  particulars  about  Johnson  to  this 
general  principle,  and  the  illustration  of  it  from  remote  quarters. 
At  the  end  of  the  paragraph  we  are  brought  abruptly  back  to 
Johnson — *  and  such  is  the  mannerism  of  Johnson.'  Many 
writers  would  have  executed  neither  of  these  brilliant  turns. 
Many  would  have  begun  by  saying  that  the  mannerism  of 
Johnson  is  unpardonable,  and  would  then  have  proceeded  to 
state  why  it  is  so ;  and  then,  perhaps,  by  way  of  counter  illus- 
tration, would  have  explained  when  mannerism  is  pardonable. 
Macaulay's  order  of  statement  would  thus  have  been  inverted; 
and  the  contrast,  brought  in  by  an  equable  transition,  would 
have  produced  a  much  less  flashing  effect." 

One  other  example,  much  more  familiar  to  you,  will  be 
sufficient  as  proof  that  this  mode  of  arrangement  is  well 
fitted  to  tell,  impressively,  at  the  bar,  in  a  public  political 
meeting,  or  in  the  pulpit.  The  writer  we  quote  from 
begins  with  the  very  opposite  of  what  he  wishes  to 
prove : 

"  O  woman  !  in  our  hours  of  ease, 
Uncertain,  coy,  and  hard  to  please, 
And  variable  as  the  shade 
By  the  light  quivering  aspen  made — 
When  pain  and  anguish  wring  the  brow, 
A  ministering  angel  thou  !" 

A  few  thoughts,  really  great,  connected  with  our  theme 
as  a  whole,  must,  as  we  lovingly  prepare  to  say  adieu  to 
our  subject,  receive  notice.  Lovingly;  for  it  is  far  be- 
yond the  force  of  words  to  express  how  intense,  delicate, 
fresh  the  enjoyments  have  been  that  we  have  received 
in  our  study  of  this  strictly  defined  yet  very  wide  theme 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  501 

— a  theme  that  has  revealed  to  us  many  a  capability, 
many  a  beauty,  in  this  great  English  language  of  ours. 

i.  Our  English  language  is  but  half  developed ;  it  is  a 
millionaire,  who  on  his  vast  estate  has  a  hundred  mines 
of  gold  that  are  only  half  wrought.  There  are  innumer- 
able words  that  must  be  termed  "  old-new."  For  in- 
stance, by  the  employment  of  the  prefixes  en  and  be,  the 
most  felicitous  words,  old  yet  new,  offer  themselves  to 
you :  such  as  "  bedawn,"  "  enhome,"  "  bechrist,"  "  en- 
star,"  "  bemorn,"  "  enclay."  The  use  of  such  words  will 
favor  your  hearers  with  a  strong  surprise ;  and  yet  they 
are  so  formed  out  of  the  oldest  materials  that  they  will 
carry  with  them  their  own  explanation.  Try  it.  You 
will  be  delighted.  But  say  many,  "  These  words  are  not 
in  the  dictionary."  What  writer  on  botany  would  think 
it  necessary  to  catalogue  in  a  book  all  the  buds  and  blos- 
soms of  the  next  May-day  ?  Very  far  from  necessary  is 
it  to  have  all  the  words  of  a  language  in  a  dictionary ; 
thousands  of  words  contain  in  themselves  their  own  defi- 
nition; such  as  this  which  we  heard  a  fortnight  since 
from  the  pulpit — "  disconsolation."  Our  young  lawyers, 
in  a  good-natured  way,  forthwith  attacked  this  word — 
because  it  is  not  in  Webster.  We  mentioned  it  to  the 
preacher.  He  was  astonished.  He  had  no  idea  of  his 
having  used  it ;  a  proof  that  it  had  sprung  into  life  so 
naturally.  It  was  a  new  eddy  in  a  stream,  forced  into 
existence  by  the  necessities  of  the  current.  We  turn 
over  the  leaves  of  a  new  volume  before  us ;  we  find  such 
words  as  these:  "sun-orb,"  "  rainbow  lustres,"  "God- 
bright,"  "serfage,"  "  shadow  -haunted,"  "  rebel  -  heart- 
ed," "  Tabor-light,"  "  night-dispeller."  Such  amalgama- 
tions lie  before  us  by  the  hundred.  We  could  easily 
quote  from  a  single  page  of  Whittier's  flashing  lines 
twenty  or  thirty  such  words,  coined  for  the  first  time. 
Or  if  you  go  back  in  the  centuries  with  us,  to  study  the 
English  language  ere  it  left  the  shores  that  stretch  from 
the  Scheldt  to  Jutland,  you  will  find  the  same  tendency 


502          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

to  form  new  nouns  in  this  way  of  turning  a  noun  into  an 
adjective,  and  then  using  that  adjective  as  a  prefix  to 
some  other  old  noun ;  as  in  the  epic  of  Beowulf,  the 
great  lay  on  the  battle  of  Brunanburh,  when  Athelstane 
conquered ;  the  funeral  song  of  Adhelm  ;  or  the  hymns 
of  Caedmon,  where  such  words  as  these  occur:  "wine- 
hall,"  "mead-hall,"  "  war-clang,"  "  breast  -net,"  "life- 
gore,"  "  war- carnage,"  "  battle  -hawk,"  "  earth  -house," 
"  death-stab,"  "  cavern-house,"  "  flood-dread,"  "  death- 
mist,"  "  army-cry,"  "  glory-king."  In  Milton,  words  of 
this  kind  meet  us  in  tens — each  a  sparkle  of  phosphor- 
escence on  an  ocean  of  brilliancy  and  depth. 

We. have  quoted  enough  to  show  you  that  our  En- 
glish, from  its  inward  character,  and  in  its  very  earliest 
age,  and  in  our  day  as  much  as  ever,  admits  of  and  hints, 
nay,  on  the  part  of  any  great  writer,  demands  a  contin- 
ual birth  of  new  words.  Let  no  man,  who  is  of  strong 
and  original  mind,  allow  himself  to  be  the  slave  of  a 
Webster;  let  him  betake  him  boldly  and  lovingly  to  the 
English  itself  and  its  Saxon  roots.  From  this  source 
any  original  thinker  has  the  right,  governed  by  common- 
sense  and  good  taste,  to  construct  new  compounds  by 
the  score,  he  taking  care  that,  while  they  are  new,  they 
yet  are  old. 

But,  besides,  you  have  the  command  of  another  fount 
of  language,  the  Greek ;  one  that  must  be  admirable,  in- 
asmuch as  thence  come  names  for  discoveries  utterly  un- 
known to  the  Greek  when  it  was  a  living  tongue.  In 
our  time  we  have  had  remarkable  instances;  as  in  the 
telegraph,  the  instrument  that  sends  messages  from  a  dis- 
tance ;  and  telegram,  the  message  sent.  The  latter  word, 
so  recent,  how  beautiful  it  is.  Your  author  desires, 
shrinking  from  his  own  impertinence,  to  risk  his  fame, 
for  the  future  age  in  which  he  believes  so  strongly,  on  a 
word  which  he  now  invents.  It  is  the  word — Cosmarch  : 
from  Cosmos,  the  world;  and  Archon,  a  ruler.  In  our 
United  States  here,  we  have  above  thirty  states,  each  of 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  503 

which  abjures  the  right  of  war.  An  age  awaits  the  world 
when  all  the  European  states,  and  all  the  tribes  of  the 
earth,  will  similarly  abjure  this  Satanic  claim  to  shed 
blood,  and  all  international  quarrels  shall  be  settled  by 
decision  of  a  common  Amphictyonic  Council ;  the  elec- 
tion of  which  will  wait  for  the  coming  of  the  millennium 
no  more  than  the  Congress  at  Washington  waited.  The 
world's  President  will  need  a  suitable  title ;  let  this  title 
be  our  contribution  to  the  cause  of  brotherhood,  of  prac- 
tical Christianity,  of  common-sense ;  let  him  be  hailed 
as  the  Cosmarch.  The  word  is  regularly  formed,  pre- 
cisely expressive,  compact,  musical ;  a  word  which  invites 
and  defies  criticism ;  another  proof  of  how  exhaustless 
our  language  is.  But  will  it  ever  be  needed  ?  It  will ; 
for  our  Hero,  King  Jesus,  reigns ;  and  hath  resolved. 
The  adoption  of  this  word  will  be  our  test  of  success  as 
a  writer. 

Then,  if  any  one  of  our  readers  is  eager  to  become,  not 
notorious,  but  celebrated,  there  is  a  niche  in  the  temple 
of  fame  open  for  him  to  occupy.  The  Swiss  Cantons, 
The  Low  Countries — these  are  not  names ;  Switzerland, 
Holland,  Belgium — these  are  names.  In  the  same  way 
"The  United  States"  is  not  a  name — merely  a  peri- 
phrasis. In  the  Centennial  Building  let  a  niche  be  re- 
served for  the  happy  man  who  supplies  the  proper  name 
for  our  country,  be  it  Columbia,  or  what  else  soever  may 
be  the  most  befitting. 

2.  While  by  all  means  we  exhort  all  existing  and  all 
coming  orators  to  be  as  sublime  as  their  wings,  or  their 
supply  of  hydrogen,  enable  them  to  be,  we  exhort  them 
to  foster  the  homely ;  as  often  throughout  these  pages 
we  have  implored  our  readers  to  do. 

The  Presbyterian  pastor  at  Flemington,  the  Rev.  Dr. 
George  S.  Mott,  confines  himself  to  the  homely  almost 
exclusively ;  he  finds  that  such  modes  of  talking  never 
run  out;  they  are  always,  understood  by  every  one  in  his 
large  audience.  They  often  produce  a  surprise,  a  strik- 


504          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

ing  effect ;  they  make  his  people  regard  him  as  an  inex- 
haustible treasure  of  the  most  excellent  common-sense 
and  shrewdness.  As  when  he  said  the  other  day : 

"We  do  not  ask  enough  of  God;  He  loves  to  give.  We 
usually  go  to  Him  with  a  saucer;  we  should  go  with  a  pail." 

Preachers  generally  have  no  sufficient  notion  how  this 
way  of  talking  impresses,  and  how  long  and  easily  it  is 
remembered.  In  fact,  the  difficulty  is  to  forget  it.  In 
a  volume  of  "  Yale  Lectures  on  Preaching  "  is  given  this 
instance : 

"  I  recollect  on  one  occasion  to  have  heard  Dr.  Humphrey, 
President  of  Amherst  College,  who  certainly  was  not  a  rhetori- 
cian, speaking  in  respect  to  the  treatment  of  the  Indians.  He 
used  one  of  the  most  provincial  of  provincialisms,  yet  it  came 
with  an  explosive  tone  that  fastened  it  in  my  memory;  and  not 
only  that,  but  it  gave  an  impulse  to  my  whole  life,  I  might  say, 
and  affected  me  in  my  whole  course  and  labor  as  a  reformer. 
It  was  the  effect  of  but  a  single  word.  He  had  been  describ- 
ing the  shameful  manner  in  which  our  government  had  broken 
treaties  with  the  Indians  in  Florida  and  Georgia.  He  went  on 
saying  what  was  just  and  what  was  right,  and  came  to  the  dis- 
cussion of  some  critical  point  of  policy  which  had  been  pro- 
posed, when  he  suddenly  ceased  his  argument,  and  exclaimed, 
*  The  voice  of  the  people  will  be  lifted  up,  and  they  shall  say 
to  the  government — You  shrfrft!''  Now  'sha'n't'  is  not  very 
good  English,  but  it  is  provincial,  colloquial,  and  very  familiar 
to  every  boy.  It  carried  a  home  feeling  with  it,  and  we  all 
knew  what  it  meant.  He  let  it  out  like  a  bullet,  and  the  whole 
chapel  was  hushed  for  the  moment,  and  then  the  rustle  followed, 
which  showed  that  the  shot  had  struck.  It  has  remained  in  my 
memory  ever  since." 

Let  us  now  add  a  few  more  of  Dr.  Mott's  instances. 
We  implore  not  preachers  only,  but  all  public  speakers, 
to  cultivate  the  homely  all  through  their  career.  It  can 
not  be  estimated  too  highly ;  and  there  is  no  one  but  can 
increase  his  command  of  it  very  far  beyond  his  expecta- 
tions. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  505 

"  Each  church  is  a  household  of  faith.  In  the  household 
each  member  can  do  something.  Why,  the  children  can  pick 
up  chips  and  rock  the  cradle." 

"  The  food  devoid  of  nourishment  to  the  strong  and  healthy 
Christian  may  be  very  nutritious  to  many  a  faint-hearted  be- 
liever. A  working  man  would  go  away  hungry  from  a  meal  of 
arrowroot;  but  that  is  quite  hearty  enough  for  a  valetudina- 
rian." 

"  A  speck  upon  a  minister's  character  is  more  prominent 
than  the  same  would  be  in  a  man  of  the  world.  Mud  on  a 
white  lawn  dress  looks  worse  than  on  a  dark  calico." 

"  Man  and  his  work  are  not  like  a  rider  and  his  horse.  The 
latter  are  joined  for  the  day  in  service,  but  separated  as  soon 
as  the  rider  dismounts.  But  our  work,  our  common  business, 
leaves  its  impress  on  us,  as  the  miller  carries  about  with  him 
the  dust  of  his  mill." 

3.  These  illustrations,  all  of  them  taken  from  one  ser- 
mon, send  you  to  an  important  quarter  for  materials — 
even  to  the  common  businesses  of  life.  From  that  quar- 
ter alone  inexhaustible  supplies  may  be  obtained.  You 
may,  possibly,  have  never  dreamed  that  such  is  the  case. 
Try,  and  you  will  be  convinced,  to  your  astonishment.  If 
you  study  the  conversation  or  the  discourses  of  Jesus, 
you  will  find  that  He  went  thither:  to  the  housewife  at 
her  home-toils,  to  the  fisher  in  his  boat  on  the  lake,  to 
the  farmer  with  his  seed-bag  round  his  neck.  This,  then, 
forces  on  your  minds  the  question,  a  leading  one  in  such 
a  subject  as  ours,  What  are  the  sources  whence  figures 
can  be  obtained  ?  It  may  seem  that  this  volume,  up  to 
this  late  page,  has  overlooked  this ;  but  no — every  exam- 
ple that  we  have  quoted  exhibits  to  you  a  source.  You 
can  not  do  better  than  to  read  this  book  over  once  more, 
for  the  special  purpose  of  discovering  and  pondering  on 
these  sources.  It  was  with  the  special  intention  of  show- 
ing what  these  sources  are  that  the  quotations  were 
made.  And  we  very  particularly  pray  you  to  write  down, 
as  you  go  over  the  book  a  second  time,  a  list  of  what 


506         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

the  sources  were,  But  we  enumerate,  as  chief  founts  of 
the  figurative — domestic  life ;  the  common  trades  and 
businesses ;  material  nature ;  the  griefs ;  the  joys ;  ani- 
mal existence ;  the  various  sciences,  so  far  as  they  are  on 
the  level  of  the  general  mind;  Bible  incidents;  historical 
occurrences. 

4.  Of  Shakespeare,  since  we  have  uttered  so  much 
laud,  permit  us  to  be  guilty  of  three  words  of  dispraise : 
Too  many  indecent  words  ;  too  many  senseless  and  wea- 
risome verbal  conceits ;  utter  indifference  to  the  urgent 
and  sublime  claims  of  the  common  people.     Neither  he 
nor  any  one  of  his  characters  has  ever  once  expressed  a 
word  of  interest  in  the  masses.     Alas! 'how  sublime  a 
mind  dead  to  how  sublime  an  aspiration. 

5.  We  have  been  far  from  succeeding  in  one  of  our 
chief  objects  in  this  volume  if  we  have  not  wrought  the 
conviction  deep  in  many  minds,  not  that  we  have  ex- 
hausted the  subject,  but  that  we  have  left  it,  in  many 
points,  unexhausted ;  so  that  at  least  a  hundred  figures 
lie  yet  unnamed.     We  can  not  convey  a  fitting  idea  of 
the  disadvantages  we  have  labored  under  as  to  procuring 
access  to  writers,  living  as  we  have  often  done  far  from 
good  libraries.    We  hope  that  those  who  honor  us  with 
criticisms  will  endeavor  to  make  discoveries,  especially 
if  they  have  the  command  of  many  books.     If  we  have 
done  something  without  libraries,  how  much  more  may 
they,  with  books  all  accessible.     But,  besides,  let  every 
reader  bear  in  recollection  that  the  book  of  his  own  mind 
should  be  continually  active,  and  continually  productive 
of  figures ;  and  as  in  a  country  where  mountains  meet 
with  clouds  and  with  sunrays,  the  appearances  of  mount- 
ain scenery  are  ever  new,  so  with  a  mind  that  is  ever 
meeting  with  sorrows  and  with  joys,  the  thought-scenery 
and  the  word-scenery  should  be  ever  various  and  pro- 
ductive.    Let  us  hear,  then,  of  many  new  figures;   let 
them  be  identified  and  catalogued,  and  please  do  tell  our 
publisher  of  them,  for  our — tenth  edition. 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  507 

6.  We  trust  we  have  created  in  many  minds  an  eager 
thirst  for  that  beauty  which  is  couched  in  literary  ex- 
pression ;  and,  if  so,  such  reader  will  thank  us  if  we  tell 
them  where  to  find,  in  some  one  or  two  productions,  a 
very  choice  banquet  of  taste  and  criticism.     Macaulay's 
"  Essay  on  Milton  " — read  it  once  and  again — is  such 
a  banquet ;  as  also  Carlyle's  "  Essay  on  Burns."     And 
pray  do  familiarize  yourselves  with  the  genuine,  unadul- 
terated ballad  poetry.     The  authors  all  unknown,  just  as 
the  master-minds  are  all  unknown,  who,  in  the  Middle 
Ages,  raised  to  heaven  the  matchless  wonders  of  sacred 
Gothic  architecture.     In  these  ballads  there  is  so  much 
directness,  strength,  freshness ;   such  might  of  incident 
and  exhaustless  variety  thereof;  so  many  a  war-clang 
from  the  thickest  of  the  battle-field ;  so  many  a  heroic 
shout  of  fealty  all  disinterested ;  so  many  a  rough  blow 
struck  by  intense  power  of  will  and  manliness ;  so  many 
a  moan   of  unfathomable  heart-break ;   and,  besides,  so 
many  an  incomparable  glint  of  May-dews  on  the  green- 
wood; of  spray  on  the  sea;  as  when  oft  a  ballad  thus 
opens : 

"  In  somer  when  the  shawes  be  sheyne, 

And  leves  be  large  and  long, 
Hit  is  fulle  mery  in  feyre  foreste, 
To  here  the  foulys  song." 

If  this  volume  succeed  in  sending  you  a-roaming  in 
this  wide  and  wild  ballad  domain  of  forestry  and  of  sea- 
waves,  you  will  never  cease  being  thankful  for  the  hum- 
ble but  enthusiastic  service  we  have  tried  to  render  you. 

7.  Permit  us,  in  a  word,  to  mention   Suggestiveness. 
Seek  and  eagerly  pray  that  your  style  may  have  sug- 
gestiveness.     This  quality  of  style  we  are  constrained 
to  urge  upon  you,  from  our  long  and  so  minute  study 
of  Shakespeare,  the  inimitable.     Hear  Taine  on  this: 

"  Every  word  pronounced  by  one  of  his  characters  enables 
us  to  see,  besides  the  idea  which  it  contains  and  the  emotion 
which  prompted  it,  the  aggregate  of  the  qualities  and  the  entire 


508          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

character  which  produced  it — the  mood,  physical  attitude,  bear- 
ing, look  of  the  man,  all  instantaneously,  with  a  clearness  and 
force  approached  by  no  one.  The  words  which  strike  our  ears 
are  not  the  thousandth  part  of  those  we  hear  within ;  they  are 
like  sparks  thrown  off  at  intervals ;  the  eyes  catch  rare  flashes 
of  flame ;  the  mind  alone  perceives  the  vast  conflagration  of 
which  they  are  the  signs  and  the  effect.  This  property  pos- 
sessed by  every  phrase  to  exhibit  a  world  of  sentiments  and 
forms  comes  from  the  fact  that  the  phrase  is  actually  caused 
by  a  world  of  emotions  and  images.  Shakespeare  had  the  pro- 
digious faculty  of  seeing  in  a  twinkling  of  the  eye  a  complete 
character.  A  word  here  and  there  would  need  for  its  expla- 
nation three  pages  of  commentary;  each  of  the  half-understood 
thoughts,  which  the  commentator  may  have  discovered,  has  left 
its  trace  in  the  turn  of  the  phrase,  in  the  nature  of  the  metaphor, 
in  the  order  of  the  words.  These  innumerable  traces  have  been 
impressed  in  a  second,  within  the  compass  of  a  line.  In  the 
next  line  there  are  as  many." 

You  do  not  seek  to  be  a  Shakespeare ;  but  you  do  ask, 
"  How  can  I  have  suggestiveness  ?"  This  direction  at 
least  we  can  urge :  Write  on  great  interests ;  on  great 
subjects ;  on  vast  doctrines.  If  you  are  a  preacher,  for 
instance,  do  not  dream  that  your  pretty  fancies  will  fur- 
nish depths  of  thought  to  you  and  to  the  people  in  the 
prolific  way  in  which  God's  old  dogmas  will  do.  We 
hear  the  cry,  "  Little  dogma  in  the  pulpit !"  Assured- 
ly, do  not  carry  them  on  your  weary  shoulders  as  heavy 
logs;  but  permeate  them  with  your  heart  ;  show  their 
bearing  on  affairs,  and  on  the  progress  and  salvation  and 
life  of  the  age ;  let  us  see  how  they  develop  our  Awful 
and  Beautiful  Friend,  the  Deity ;  and  it  is  absolutely  cer- 
tain that  they  will  enthrob  your  style  with  suggestive- 
ness. 

And  now,  our  last  medley.  We  gave  one  before  at 
the  close  of  Chapter  XII.,  as  a  good  device  in  teaching 
this  subject  in  the  school.  Let  the  reader  identify  the 
figures  in  the  following  quotations,  thrown  together  in 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  509 

intentional  confusion,  such  as  flickers  before  us  in  the 
forest  when  leaves  of  a  score  of  tints  mingle  and  dance 
in  the  wind. 

Lord  Jeffrey,  celebrated  editor  of  the  Edinburgh  Re- 
view from  1803  to  1829,  gives  us  this  critique  on  the 
poet  Proctor: 

"  His  soul  seems  filled  to  overflow  with  images  of  love  and 
beauty,  and  gentle  sorrow,  and  tender  pity,  and  mild  and  holy 
resignation.  The  character  of  his  poetry  is  to  soothe  and  melt 
and  delight;  to  make  us  kind  and  thoughtful  and  imagina- 
tive." 

F.  W.  Faber,  a  Roman  Catholic,  thus  writes  of  the  En- 
glish Bible  ;  his  style  is  inimitable : 

"The  uncommon  beauty  and  marvelous  English  of  the 
Protestant  Bible !  It  lives  on  the  ear  like  a  music  that  can 
never  be  forgotten,  like  the  sound  of  'church-bells  which  the 
convert  hardly  knows  how  he  can  forego.  Its  felicities  often 
seem  to  be  almost  things  rather  than  mere  words.  It  is  part 
of  the  national  mind,  and  the  anchor  of  national  seriousness. 
The  memory  of  the  dead  passes  into  it.  The  potent  traditions 
of  childhood  are  stereotyped  in  its  phrases.  The  power  of  all 
the  griefs  and  trials  of  a  man  is  hidden  beneath  its  words.  It 
is  the  representative  of  his  best  moments ;  and  all  that  there 
has  been  about  him  of  soft  and  gentle  and  pure  and  penitent 
and  good  speaks  to  him  forever  out  of  his  English  Bible.  It 
is  his  sacred  thing,  which  doubt  has  never  dimmed,  and  con- 
troversy never  soiled.  It  has  been  to  him  all  along  as  the 
silent  but,  oh,  how  intelligible  voice  of  his  guardian  angel ;  and 
in  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land  there  is  not  a  Protestant, 
with  one  spark  of  religiousness  about  him,  whose  spiritual  biog- 
raphy is  not  in  his  Saxon  Bible." 

What  a  choice  bit  of  writing !  What  enjoyment  it  gives 
us! 

As  we  are  very  eager  to  propel  you  to  an  enthusiasm 
for  ballads,  hear  what  Sir  Walter  said  of  Bishop  Percy's 
"  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry:" 


510          Might,  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

"The  first  time  I  could  scrape  a  few  shillings  together— 
which  were  not  common  occurrences  with  me — I  bought  unto 
myself  a  copy  of  these  beloved  volumes ;  nor  do  I  believe  I  ever 
read  a  book  half  so  frequently,  or  with  half  the  enthusiasm." 

Sir  Walter's  "  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border  "  is  as 
good. 

We  put  before  you,  as  it  were  by  compulsion,  a  con- 
tribution by  Dryden  on  Oliver  Cromwell ;  the  more  you 
ponder  it,  the  more  you  will  admire  it,  for  its  truth  to 
nature  and  to  Cromwell : 

"  His  grandeur  he  derived  from  Heaven  alone, 
For  he  was  great  ere  fortune  made  him  so; 
And  wars,  like  mists  that  rise  against  the  sun, 
Made  him  but  greater  seem,  not  greater  grow." 

By  compulsion,  too,  we  can  not  avoid  introducing  to 
you  Dr.  Craik,  than  whom  there  is  no  recent  critic  who 
deserves  to  stand  higher.  Thus  he  writes  of  Dr.  Beattie 
and  James  Thomson : 

"'The  Minstrel,'  by  Beattie,  is  a  harmonious  and  eloquent 
composition,  glowing  with  poetical  sentiment ;  but  its  inferiority 
in  the  highest  poetical  qualities  may  be  felt  by  comparing  it 
with  Thomson's  '  Castle  of  Indolence,'  which  is  perhaps  the 
other  work  in  the  language  which  it  most  nearly  resembles,  but 
which  yet  it  resembles  much  in  the  same  way  as  gilding  does 
solid  gold,  or  as  colored  water  might  be  made  to  resemble 


From  Taine,  who  treats  of  English  literature  on  deep 
principles,  and  who  is  so  suggestive,  let  us  take  this 
glimpse  of  how  cheerfully  men  have,  thousands  of  times, 
died  for  Christ,  that  greatest  maker  of  heroes.  It  is 
Hugh  Latimer,  bishop,  reformer,  man  of  quenchless  hu- 
mor, who  is  spoken  of  by  the  Frenchman  : 

"  He  spoke  the  truth  to  the  king,  unmasked  robbers,  incurred 
all  kind  of  hate,  resigned  his  see  rather  than  sign  any  thing 
against  his  conscience;  and  at  eighty  years  of  age,.under  Bloody 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  511 

Mary,  refusing  to  retract,  after  two  years  of  prison  and  waiting — 
and  what  waiting ! — he  was  led  to  the  stake.  His  companion, 
old  Bishop  Ridley,  slept  the  night  before  as  calmly  as  ever  he 
did  in  his  life;  and  when  ready  to  be  chained  to  the  post,  said 
aloud, '  O  heavenly  Father,  I  give  Thee  most  hearty  thanks  for 
that  Thou  hast  called  me  to  be  a  professor  of  Thee,  even  unto 
death.'  Latimer,  in  his  turn,  when  they  brought  the  lighted  fag- 
ots, cried,  '  Be  of  good  comfort,  Master  Ridley,  and  play  the 
man;  we  shall  this  day  light  such  a  candle,  by  God's  grace,  in 
England,  as  I  trust  shall  never  be  put  out.'  He  then  bathed 
his  hands  in  the  flames,  and,  resigning  his  soul  to  God,  ex- 
pired." 

Befittingly  we  close  with  a  sweet  strain  from  the  Span- 
ish, on  Peace ;  which  we  translate  for  you  : 

"  Peace  !     Inward  Heaven  of  the  breast, 

Nor  gold  nor  costliest  gems  can  buy; 
Nor  fields  with  heaped  abundance  blest, 
Nor  war  that  dims  the  widow's  eye, 
Dooming  proud  hosts  to  bleed  and  die. 

"  Peace  !     She  the  child  of  conscience  pure  ! 

She  lifts  o'er  earthly  hope  and  fear ; 
Homed  in  the  ether'd  heights  secure; 
Not  hunting  praise  with  fever'd  ear, 
Nor  holding  rank  nor  wealth  too  dear. 

"  But  finding  in  herself  her  wealth, 

In  life's  unenvied,  homely  mean ; 
Where  Duty's  toils  breathe  moral  health, 

And  Faith's  glad  eye,  through  shade  and  sheen, 
The  glories  of  Christ's  brow  hath  seen." 


5 1 2          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

FIGURES   OF   RHETORIC. 

PART    TWENTIETH. 
Parody. — Idiom. — Parable. — Allegory. 

CCXXII.  PARODY  should  be  catalogued  among  fig- 
ures rhetorical,  for  it  is  had  recourse  to  for  literary  and 
artistic  purposes ;  it  is  in  literature  what  caricature  is  in 
portrait-painting — the  transforming  of  a  grave  composi- 
tion into  a  ludicrous  shape,  yet  so  as  to  retain  a  strong 
resemblance  to  the  original.  We  feel  strongly,  however, 
the  risk  at  this  point  of  classing  a  mode  of  writing  as  a 
figure  of  speech.  An  essay  is  not  a  figure  of  speech ;  it 
may  be  plausibly  held  that  a  parable,  an  allegory,  a  par- 
ody is  not.  Yet  we  think  ourselves  justified  in  putting 
parody  on  our  catalogue,  inasmuch  as  the  whole  piece  is 
flung  into  a  new  shape  under  the  transforming  influence 
of  a  mirthful  feeling  in  the  mind. 

"The  Rejected  Addresses,"  by  the  brothers  Smith, 
is  a  whole  book  of  specimens.  But  rather  take  one  on 
Moore's  "  Last  Rose  of  Summer:" 

"  'Tis  the  last  rose  of  summer 

Left  blooming  alone ; 
All  its  lovely  companions 

Are  faded  and  gone. 
No  flower  of  its  kindred, 

No  rosebud  is  nigh, 
To  reflect  back  its  blushes 

And  give  sigh  for  sigh." 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  5 1 3 

"  Tis  the  last  golden  dollar 

Left  shining  alone ; 
All  its  brilliant  companions 

Are  squander'd  and  gone. 
No  coin  of  its  mintage 

Reflects  back  its  hue; 
They  went  for  mint  juleps, 

And  this  will  go  too." 

This  form  of  writing  was  known  early  among  the  Greeks ; 
even  Homer  was  subjected  to  this  kind  of  familiarity ; 
while  on  the  stage  they  acted  caricatures  of  the  best 
tragedies ;  and  Aristophanes  parodied  the  spirit-led  Soc- 
rates— whose  Daemon,  surely,  his  divine  Influence,  was 
procured  for  him  by  the  Friend  who  died  for  man. 

CCXXIII.  Idioms  may  be  treated  of,  as  of  great  impor- 
tance :  a  mode  of  expression  peculiar  to  a  particular  lan- 
guage. We  refer  at  present  to  English  idioms;  which 
are  a  very  valuable  and  very  racy  ingredient  in  style,  de- 
manding and  repaying  much  attention.  They  lend  an 
inexpressible  charm  to  Addison's  Spectator ;  Sir  Rich- 
ard Steele's  papers  in  that  periodical  are  also  admirable 
for  idiomatic  ease  and  grace.  Every  language  has  turns 
of  expression  which  to  translate  word  for  word  into  any 
other  language  would  by  no  means  give  a  correct  trans- 
lation; nay,  would  only  give  us  nonsense.  "  He  is  a 
good  man  "  may  be  translated  word  for  word  into  Latin 
and  keep  its  meaning;  "  He  is  well  to  do  in  the  world  " 
defies  literal  translation.  Read  the  writings  of  old  Thom- 
as Fuller  for  an  abundant  supply,  and  learn  what  is  meant 
by  saying  of  an  idiom  that  it  is  racy  and  piquant  and 
peppery;  and  study  in  our  best  comedies  what  Dugald 
Stewart  calls  "  the  shadowy  and  fleeting  forms  of  comic 
dialogue." 

Sometimes  idioms  are  in  a  high  degree  expressive  of 
national  character.  "  How  do  you  carry  yourself?"  ges- 
ticulates the  Frenchman ;  "  How  do  you  do  ?"  inquires 
the  Englishman ;  the  former  salutation'seeming  to  let  out 

KK 


514          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

the  Frenchman's  regard  to  outward  demeanor  and  bear- 
ing ;  the  latter,  the  Englishman's  love  and  esteem  of 
practical  effort  and  activity.  So  a  foreign  traveler  in  the 
United  States,  alluding  derisively  to  the  American  facil- 
ity in  moving  from  one  profession  to  another,  or  from 
New  England  to  California,  assures  us  that  if  you  ask  a 
Yankee  how  he  is,  his  answer  will  likely  be,  "  Moving, 


sir 


Dean  Swift  abounds  in  idiom,  the  cleverest  possible. 
Writing  to  Lord  Bolingbroke,  on  the  value  of  a  plain  un- 
derstanding, he  speaks  thus : 

"  Did  you  never  observe  one  of  your  clerks  cutting  his  paper 
with  a  blunt  ivory  knife  ?  Did  you  ever  know  the  knife  to  fail 
going  the  right  way  ?  Whereas,  if  he  had  used  a  razor  or  pen- 
knife, he  had  odds  against  him  of  spoiling  a  whole  sheet." 

When  you  say,  "  He  is  on  board  of  a  man-of-war ;"  "  The 
speaker  broke  down ;"  "  I  don't  like  any  one  to  take  me 
off,"  you  are  using  idioms. 

A  good  idiom  has  nothing  of  vulgarity  or  of  slang 
about  it.  But  the  old  writer,  Roger  L'Estrange,  so  crams 
his  political  pamphlets  and  his  translations  with  low  id- 
ioms as  to  taint  almost  every  line  with  the  low-bred,  to 
a  degree  that  is  almost  inconceivable  ;  as  thus : 

"  She  was  easily  put  off  the  hooks,  and  monstrous  hard  to 
be  pleased  again.  She  was  as  bad,  'tis  true,  as  bad  could  be ; 
and  yet  Xanthus  had  a  kind  of  hankering  for  her  still.  The 
man  was  willing  to  make  the  best  of  a  hard  game.  *  Come, 
come,  master,'  says  ^Esop,  'pluck  up  a  good  heart;  for  I  have 
a  project  in  my  noddle  that  shall  bring  back  my  mistress.' 
What  does  my  ./Esop,  but  away  immediately  to  the  market. 
This  way  of  proceeding  set  the  whole  town  agog;  and  for  that 
bout  all  was  well  again  between  master  and  mistress." 

Very  valuable  .the  ability  or  instinct  to  discriminate 
cant  terms  and  the  jargon  of  the  day  from  the  pure  id- 
ioms of  polished  society;  the  turns  born  and  bred  in  the 
language.  The  Style  of  Dr.  Paley  may  be  recommend- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  5 1 5 

ed  as  a  good  model  of  idiomatic  English.  Thus,  when 
speaking  of  the  fry  of  fish  that  frequents  the  margin  of 
rivers  and  lakes,  whose  happiness  proclaims  how  benign 
the  Deity  is  to  them — 

"They  are  so  happy  that  they  do  not  know  what  to  do  with 
themselves." 

The  style  of  Defoe,  author  of  "  Robinson  Crusoe,"  is 
justly  considered  by  Coleridge  as  being  as  idiomatic  as 
any  in  our  literature.  Lord  Byron  owed  in  part  his  sud- 
den and  unparalleled  popularity  for  ten  or  twelve  years 
to  his  being  one  of  the  most  idiomatic  of  our  poets.  But 
do  not  mistake,  as  L' Estrange  did,  low  for  pure  expres- 
sions ;  a  mistake  similar  to  theirs  who  in  their  manners 
mistake  impudence  for  ease.  Never  so  degrade  your- 
self as  to  talk  of  blowing  a  fellow  up ;  or  of  a  person's 
being  one  of  the  big-bugs  ;  or  of  Peter's  getting  on  like 
blazes ;  or  of  your  not  having  ary  one ;  or  of  your  being 
very  'cute ;  or  of  being  in  a  bad  fix.  All  this  multitudi- 
nous class  of  utterances  prove  at  once  that  a  man's  mind 
is  low-bred.  And  you  will  labor  in  vain  to  write  with  re- 
finement if  you  do  not  accustom  yourself  to  speak  with 
refinement.  Sam  Slick  is  perpetually  using  vile  Amer- 
icanisms, which  it  is  well  enough  to  be  amused  by,  but 
which  we  should  never  demean  ourselves  to  use : 

"Did  you  ever  hear  tell  of  Abernethy,  the  British  doctor?" 
said  the  clockmaker.  "Frequently,"  said  I;  "he  was  an  em- 
inent man,  and  had  a  most  extensive  practice." — "Well,  I  reck* 
on  he  was  a  vulgar  critter  that,"  he  replied ;  "  he  treated  the 
Hon.  Alden  Gobble,  secretary  to  our  Legation  at  London,  dread- 
ful bad  once ;  and  I  guess  if  it  had  been  me  he  had  used  that 
way,  I'd  have  fixed  his  flint  for  him,  so  that  he'd  think  twice 
afore  he'd  fire  such  another  shot  as  that  at  me  again.  I'd  make 
him  make  tracks,  I  guess ;  he'd  a  found  his  way  out  of  the  hole 
in  the  fence  a  plaguy  sight  quicker  than  he  came  in,  I  reckon." 

But  how  much  fancy,  what  solid  good-sense,  what  fa- 
miliarity with  manners  and  actual  life  in  society,  what 


516          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

easy  mastery  of  polite  and  classical  idioms  in  style,  does 
not  the  Spectator  display  on  every  unequaled  page !  Let 
us  urge  you — let  it  be  considered  as  for  the  hundredth 
time — to  buy  each  one  of  you  for  himself  a  copy  of  the 
Spectator  :  one  of  the  world's  choicest  books — one  of  the 
choicest  fifty.  Of  the  prose  of  Addison  we  can  not  suf- 
ficiently express  our  admiration — an  admiration  that  in- 
creases with  our  years.  Far  inferior  is  Washington  Ir- 
ving's  style,  though  excellent,  to  Addison's. 

Be  warned  against  slang  by  Swift,  who  stigmatized  it 
as — 

"  The  most  ruinous  of  all  the  corruptions  of  a  language ;" 

and  against  the  lack  of  classical  idioms  by  Burke,  on 
Tacitus: 

"  No  author  thinks  more  deeply  or  paints  more  strongly ;  but 
he  seldom  or  never  expresses  himself  naturally.  It  is  plain  that, 
comparing  him  with  Plautus  and  Terence,  or  with  the  beautiful 
fragments  of  Publius  Syrus,  he  did  not  write  the  language  of 
good  conversation.  Cicero  is  much  nearer  to  it." 

Only  Cicero's  oratory  is  tainted  now  and  then  through 
that  enormous  self-conceit  .-of  his ;  his  literary  produc- 
tions are  far  finer. 

It  seems,  in  a  considerable  measure,  owing  to  the  great 
tendency  of  our  language  to  idiomatic  expressions,  that 
our  English  is  so  much  infested  with  anomalies.  Under 
this  head  a  late  number  of  a  new  magazine  has  an  enter- 
taining article  on  the  inconsistencies  and  ambiguities  of 
the  English  language,  from  which  we  take  the  following 
extracts : 

"  Show  me  a  fire,"  said  a  traveler  to  the  landlord,  "  for  I  am 
very  wet;  and  bring  me  a  mug  of  ale,  for  I  am  very  dry." 

"  You  walk  very  slow,"  said  a  man  to  a  consumptive.  "  Yes," 
he  replied;  "but  I'm  going  very  fast." 

Breaking  both  wings  of  an  army  is  almost  certain  to 
make  it  fly ;  a  general  may  win  the  day  in  a  battle  fought 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  5 1 7 

at  night ;  a  lawyer  may  convey  a  house,  and  yet  be  un- 
able to  lift  a  hundred  pounds;  a  room  may  be  full  of  , 
married  men,  and  not  have  a  single  man  in  it ;  a  traveler 
who  is  detained  an  hour  or  two  may  recover  most  of  the 
time  by  making  a  minute  of  it ;  a  man  killed  in  a  duel 
has  at  least  one  second  to  live  after  he  is  dead;  a  fire 
goes  out,  and  does  not  leave  the  room  ;  a  lady  may  wear 
a  suit  out  the  first  day  she  gets  it,  and  put  it  away  at 
night  in  as  good  a  condition  as  ever;  a  schoolmaster 
with  no  scholar  may  yet  have  a  pupil  in  his  eye;  the 
bluntest  man  in  business  is  generally  the  sharpest  one ; 
Ananias,  it  is  said,  told  a  lie,  and  yet  he  was  borne  out 
by  the  by-standers;  caterpillars  turn  over  a  new  leaf 
without  much  moral  improvement ;  oxen  can  only  eat 
corn  with  the  mouth,  yet  you  may  give  it  to  them  in  the 
ear ;  food  bolted  down  is  not  the  most  likely  to  remain 
on  the  stomach ;  soft  water  is  often  caught  when  it  rains 
hard  ;  high  words  between  men  are  frequently  low  words ; 
steamboat  officers  are  very  pleasant  company,  and  yet 
we  are  always  glad  to  have  them  give  us  a  wide  berth ; 
a  nervous  man  is  trembling,  faint,  weak,  while  a  nervous 
style  and  a  man  of  nerve  is  strong,  firm,  and  vigorous. 

Punch  tells  us  of  a  man  who  was  arrested  for  attempting 
to  damage  the  River  Thames.  "  What  was  the  man  do- 
ing?"— "He  was  trying  to  pull  up  the  stream."  Joseph's 
brethren  have  been  excused  for  putting  him  into  the 
pit,  because  it  is  supposed  they  thought  it  a  good  open- 
ing for  a  young  man.  There  was  the  person  who  carried 
out  a  project,  and  was  obliged  to  bring  it  back  again ; 
who  kept  his  word,  and  so  had  a  quarrel  with  Noah  Web-  [| 
ster,  who  wanted  it  for  his  dictionary.  There  was  the 
one  who  courted  an  investigation,  and  was  wedded  to  his 
own  opinions.  A  furrier,  having  facilities  for  renovating 
old  furs,  advertised  "  capes,  victorines,  etc.,  made  up  for 
ladies  out  of  their  own  skins."  The  circular  of  a  lady 
teacher  spoke  of  her  character,  and  the  "  reputation  for 
teaching  she  bears."  The  advertisement  of  a  concert 


518          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

director  announced  that  "  a  variety  of  songs  might  be 
expected,  too  tedious  to  be  mentioned."  It  may  further 
be  noticed  that  though  "  caterers  "  is  right,  "  haterers  " 
is  wrong;  that  though  a  man  from  Lapland  is  a  Lap- 
lander, yet  a  man  from  Michigan  is  not  a  Michigander, 
nor  a  lady  from  that  state  a  Michigoose;  though  a  nailer 
is  one  who  makes  nails,  a  tailor  is  not  one  who  makes 
tails,  unless  they  be  coat-tails ;  and  though  a  wavelet  is 
a  little  wave,  yet  a  bullet  is  not  a  little  bull,  nor  a  ham- 
let a  little  ham. 

In  carrying  on,  which  ought  to  be  for  life,  your  study 
of  idioms,  contrast  Burns  with  Tennyson  —  Tennyson, 
whom  we  greatly  admire.  Evidently  is  he  searching  out 
deft  words.  He  is  a  gentleman  of  the  drawing-room ; 
admirably  dressed  ;  but  always  thinking  of  his  dress — to 
think  of  which  becomes  an  unmanly  habit.  Robert 
Burns,  in  his  best  pieces,  thinks  no  more  of  his  dress 
than  doth  the  skylark. 

CCXXIV.  Parable  highly  deserves  mention  and  study 
as  a  figure  of  speech ;  if  allegory  is  always  admitted  to  be 
a  figure,  not  less  should  parable — a  briefer  kind  of  al- 
legory; wherein  a  fictitious  or  a  real  incident  or  little 
history  is  narrated  for  the  purpose  of  covertly  insinuating 
some  moral ;  some  rebuke,  warning,  or  exhortation.  It 
does  not  seem  to  differ  from  allegory  essentially,  but 
only  in  briefness.  The  oldest  on  record  is  that  of  Jotham, 
Judges  ix.,  7-2 1 .  Surely,  after  reading  this  beautiful  illus- 
tration, and  that  still  more  beautiful  one  in  2  Sam.  xii.,  we 
have  a  good  right  to  complain  of  our  pulpit  orators  for  so 
very  seldom  in  our  day  employing  this  polished,  dexter- 
ous, and  weighty  linguistic  weapon.  Let  them  depend  on 
it,  it  is  admirably  adapted  for  the  enforcement  of  Chris- 
tian truth ;  as  the  infallible  and  brilliant  example  of  our 
Saviour  demonstrates,  who,  speaking  as  never  man  spake, 
was  constantly  using  parables  in  His  sermons.  We  give  a 
few  instances  of  what  might  be  employed  in  the  pulpit. 

Certain  Hindoo  hearers  were  objecting  to  the  verse, 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  519 

"  He  that  sinneth  in  one  point  is  guilty  of  all."    The 

missionary  with  whom  they  were  arguing  replied  thus : 

* 

"A  boat  on  a  rapid  stream,  not  far  from  a  deadly  cataract,  was 
secured  to  the  side  by  a  cable.  This  cable  was  cut  through  in  just 
one  place.  The  boat  drifted  down,  and  was  torn  to  pieces  in  the 
cataract,  quite  as  disastrously  as  if  the  cable  had  been  cut 
through  in  fifty  places." 

Another  time,  after  he  had  set  the  vigilance-arousing 
doctrine  of  the  temptations  of  Satan,  the  gigantic  would- 
be  God,  of  whom  it  is  perhaps  that  the  cataclysms  of  geol- 
ogy speak,  they  maintained  that  therefore  Satan  should 
be  punished,  and  men  let  go  free ;  whereupon  he  replied : 

"  Some  men  with  rifles  were  standing  on  the  bank  of  the 
Ganges  as  a  vessel  with  women  and  children  on  board  was 
passing  down  the  river.  A  malignant  stranger  came  up  to  the 
men,  and  persuaded  them  to  fire  on  the  vessel.  They  con- 
sented; eagerly  seized  their  rifles,  and  killed  several  of  the 
children  and  the  women.  The  government  put  the  stranger  to 
death,  and  the  men  too." 

We  again  assert  that  in  no  way  can  truth  be  stated 
more  neatly,  more  impressively,  more  adhesively — so  as 
to  go  in  and  stick.  Rowland  Hill,  combating  the  doc- 
trine of  priestcraft,  that  the  common  people  should  not 
be  trusted  with  the  Bible,  because  there  are  in  it  things 
hard  to  be  understood,  said  : 

"A  boy  came  running  to  his  father,  crying, '  I  am  very  hun- 
gry; do  please  give  me  some  meat.' — 'No,  my  dear  son;  for 
there  are  hard  bones  in  it,  and  you  can  not  eat  the  bones." 

Such  a  parabolic  way  of  presenting  things  will  remain 
fast  in  the  memory  for  a  lifetime.  Why  do  some  of  our 
pulpit  orators  neglect  to  study  eloquence  in  the  light  of 
mental  science,  and  at  the  feet  of  Jesus  ?  Be  He  your 
model  of  a  public  speaker.  If  you  disdain  Shakespeare, 
and  believe  not  in  Demosthenes,  you  can  not  disdain  the 
Nazarene. 


520          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Here  we  may  insert  a  quotation  from  Thomas  Hooker, 
whose  Saxon  style  gives  a  singular  force  to  his  illustra- 
tion: 

"God  dealeth  with  his  servants  as  a  father  doth  with  his  son, 
after  he  hath  sent  him  on  a  great  journey  to  do  some  business; 
and  the  weather  falleth  foul,  and  the  way  proveth  dangerous, 
and  many  a  storm  and  great  difficulties  are  to  be  gone  through. 
O  how  the  heart  of  that  father  pitieth  his  son.  How  doth  he 
resolve  to  requite  him,  if  he  ever  live  to  come  home  again. 
What  preparation  doth  he  make  to  entertain  and  welcome  him; 
and  how  doth  he  study  to  do  good  unto  him.  My  brethren,  so 
it  is  here;  I  beseech  you  think  of  it — you  that  are  the  saints  and 
people  of  God." 

Mark  how  this  plain  writer  heaps  figure  on  figure ;  and 
what  proof  he  gives  that  the  homeliest  and  most  honest 
writers  employ  the  most  copious  and  various  figures. 
The  Bible  itself  is  essentially  the  noblest  poesy,  the  no- 
blest oratory.  Permit  your  author  one  little  liberty 
more ;  he,  if  little  in  reason,  is  abundant  in  rhyme ! 

How  poesy  attests  the  Christian's  God ! 

Fair,  tender,  graphic,  vast,  the  Bible  truths! 
The  chivalrous  faith  that  in  the  martyrs  glow'd ; 

That  nerves  'mid  lightnings  and  in  dying  soothes. 
O  how  pictorial  many  a  Bible  scene ! 
Glimpses  of  heaven ;  of  Eden's  dewy  green ; 
Of  Ruth  in  Boaz'  fields  sent  forth  to  glean ; 
Or  deluge  swells;  or  Egypt's  struck  with  night; 

Foul  Sodom's  death-wreaths  angry  heaven  drape ; 

The  Christ,  our  Sun-God,  dons  His  Tabor  shape; 
Or  the  sky  blazes  with  the  throne  of  white. 

Our  readers  will  admit  that  through  this  whole  volume 
we  have  been  rebuking  the  neglect  of  such  as  have  not 
made  the  Man  of  Bethlehem  their  model  as  an  orator. 
We  have  especially  deplored,  and  have  gone  the  length 
of  indignantly  denouncing,  the  fact,  that  in  the  pulpit  of 
the  day  a  figure  almost  never  used  is  the  parable,  that 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  521 

unsurpassed  figure  so  often  employed  by  the  Divine 
Man.  Restore  the  modern  pulpit,  destined  to  be  greater 
than  ever — as  it  would  need  to  be,  in  the  great  impend- 
ing controversy  with  Rome ;  a  controversy  into  which 
Tennyson  has  at  this  moment  thrown  himSelf,  in  his  great 
tragedy,  "  Queen  Mary."  How  heartily  he  denounces  the 
religion  of  bloodshed  and  of  Romish  tyranny  and  priest- 
craft. Our  preachers  need,  at  such  an  hour,  to  make 
Jesus  their  pulpit  model,  and  to  use  the  parable. 

CCXXV.  At  last  to  our  concluding  figure  have  we  come ; 
claiming,  on  the  one  hand,  that  the  treatment  of  our  sub- 
ject is  by  far  the  fullest  discussion  it  ever  has  received ; 
yet  admitting,  on  the  other  hand,  that  many  a  usage  has 
by  us  been  left,  very  likely,  as  yet  unnamed — more  in 
number  than  the  above  two  hundred  and  twenty-five 
that  have  been  catalogued.  Allegory  is  a  continued 
metaphor,  kept  up  through  a  whole  piece.  The  principal 
subject  is  not  mentioned  by  name  in  the  allegory  itself, 
but  is  described  by  another  subject  resembling  it.  The 
allegory  is  thus  made  up  of  continued  allusion ;  so  that, 
while  professedly  a  description  of  one  subject,  it  has  an 
obvious  resemblance  to  another,  to  which  every  part  of  it 
may  be  applied.  To  say  a  Christian  is  a  pilgrim  is  to  use 
a  metaphor;  John  Bunyan — he  died  in  the  year  in  which 
Pope  was  born — in  his  immortal  work,  the  "  Pilgrim's 
Progress,"  develops  this  idea,  and  writes  a  volume  upon 
it ;  certainly  the  most  successful  and  instructive  allegory 
in  the  world.  We  place  before  you  as  a  sample  "  The 
Manner's  Hymn,"  by  Mrs.  Southey,  second  wife  of  the 
distinguished  scholar  and  poet,  in  which  the  risks  of  a 
voyage  are  spoken  of  and  dwelt  on ;  the  allusion  might 
nave  been  thrown  into  a  metaphor — "  the  Christian's  life 
is  a  voyage :" 

"Launch  thy  bark,  Mariner! 

Christian,  God  speed  thee ! 
Let  loose  the  rudder-bands ; 
Good  angels  lead  thee ! 


522          Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

Set  thy  sails  warily, 

Tempests  will  come ; 
Steer  thy  course  steadily; 

Christian,  steer  home ! 
Look  to  the  weather  bow, 

Breakers  are  round  thee; 
Let  fall  the  plummet  now, 

Shallows  may  ground  thee! 
Reef  in  the  fore-sail  there ! 

Hold  the  helm  fast! 
So — let  the  vessel  wear, 

There  swept  the  blast ! 
1  What  of  the  night  ?     Watchman  ! 

What  of  the  night?' 
'Cloudy;  all  quiet; 

No  land  yet;  all's  right!' 
Be  wakeful,  be  vigilant; 

Danger  may  be 
At  an  hour  when  all  seemeth 

Securest  to  thee. 
How  !     Gains  the  leak  so  fast  ? 

Clear  out  the  hold  ! 
Hoist  up  thy  merchandise, 

Heave  out  thy  gold. 
There  !  let  the  ingots  go ; 

Now  the  ship  rights. 
"  Hurrah!  the  harbor's  near; 

Lo  !  the  red  lights  ! 
Slacken  not  sail  yet 

At  inlet  or  island; 
Straight  for  the  beacon  steer, 

Straight  for  the  highland. 
Crowd  all  thy  canvas  on, 

Cut  through  the  foam ! 
Christian,  cast  anchor  now ; 

Heaven  is  thy  home  !" 

It  is  in  agreement  with  that  love  of  clearness  which 
distinguishes  Scripture  that  its  allegories,  if  it  had  any, 
would  have  been  preceded  or  followed  by  an  indication 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  523 

of  what  the  illustrated  object  is,  and  would  have  been  all 
scrupulously  couched  in  the  past  tense.  There  is  thus 
no  excuse  to  hold  that  predictions,  which  are  in  the  fut- 
ure, are  allegories ;  for  all  allegories  are  couched  in  the 
past  tense.  In  Scripture  are  no  allegories.  When  the 
God  of  Israel  has  thought  fit  to  foretell  the  return  of  his 
beloved  Jewish  people  from  their  present  long  and  weary 
exile  to  their  own  grand  historic  land — a  land  the  birth- 
place of  religion,  the  cabinet  wherein  truths,  the  most 
noble  and  precious  of  all,  were  stored  for  centuries,  while 
foul  idolatries,  and  bloody,  engloom  all  other  realms — 
many  writers  have  maintained  that  Israelites  stand  alle- 
gorically  for  us  Gentiles,  and  that  the  rebuilding  of  Jeru- 
salem and  the  Temple  stands  for  the  conversion  of  the 
heathen;  but  prediction  proclaims  itself  to  be  prediction 
by  its  being  written  in  the  future  tense.  In  Scripture 
there  are  parables,  too  brief  to  be  reckoned  allegories ; 
or  predictions  marked  as  predictions,  because  composed 
in  the  unmistakable  future  tense. 

To  enjoy  the  allegory,  study  Bunyan's  Pilgrim — nay, 
journey  with  him  to  the  Celestial  City ;  to  enter  which 
the  worst  of  us  is  permitted,  through  the  pathway  of 
sincere  penitence.  A  book  written  by  a  man  wholly  self- 
taught — a  swearing  tinker  once,  who  could  never  spell 
even  tolerably — no  work  of  modern  times  has  been  trans- 
lated into  more  languages,  has  been  more  popular  among 
all  classes  of  men  ;  you  will  find  it  in  the  boudoir  of  the 
duchess,  and  folded  in  the  plaid  of  the  shepherd  as  he 
tends  his  sheep  on  the  hill-side.  It  is  written  in  excel- 
lent taste,  being,  like  the  "  Iliad"  and  the  "  Odyssey,"  a  re- 
markable proof  that  genius  of  the  first  order  unconscious- 
ly selects  for  itself  the  very  path  that  would  be  dictated 
by  the  severest  good  taste.  Well  has  Macaulay  said : 

"Though  there  were  many  clever  men  in  England  during 
the  latter  half  of  the  seventeenth  century,  there  were  only  two 
creative  minds.  One  of  these  produced  the  'Paradise  Lost;' 
the  other,  the  '  Pilgrim's  Progress.' " 


524         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

This  work  is  besides  as  remarkable  for  its  style  as  for 
it's  genius.  You  will  find  in  it  whole  pages  that  have 
not  in  them  a  word  of  more  than  two  syllables.  Its  lan- 
guage is  the  purest,  most  racy  Saxon.  If  you  would  see 
how  vigorously  the  simplest  Saxon  English  can  express 
every  shade  of  feeling,  and  at  the  same  time  the  humor- 
ous, the  sarcastic,  the  magnificent ;  the  indignation,  vehe- 
mence, or  tenderness  of  reproof;  the  subtleties  of  theo- 
logical argument ;  the  pathetic,  the  oratorical,  the  sub- 
lime— then  read  and  read  again  this  allegory,  never  ex- 
celled, with  its  admirable  personifications  and  deep  hu- 
man interest.  It  is  so  much  and  so  justly  valued  as  a 
hand-book  of  religion — being  perhaps  the  most  interest- 
ing exhibition  of  evangelical  Calvinism  ever  given — so 
that  less  attention  has  been  directed  to  the  circumstance 
of  its  being  so  richly  steeped  in  the  choicest  humor;  as 
witness  the  following  description  of  what  is  known  as 
"  Popping  the  Question :" 

"  Now  by  that  these  pilgrims  had  been  at  this  place  a  week, 
Mercy  had  a  visitor  that  pretended  some  good-will  unto  her, 
and  his  name  was  Mr.  Brisk;  a  man  of  some  breeding,  and 
that  pretended  to  religion,  but  a  man  that  stuck  very  close  to 
the  world.  So  he  came  once  or  twice  or  more  to  Mercy,  and 
offered  love  unto  her.  Now  Mercy  was  of  a  fair  countenance, 
and  therefore  the  more  alluring.  Her  mind  was  also  to  be 
always  busying  of  herself  in  doing,  for  when  she  had  nothing 
to  do  for  herself  she  would  be  making  hose  and  garments  for 
others,  and  would  bestow  them  upon  those  that  had  need. 
And  Mr.  -Brisk,  not  knowing  where  or  how  she  disposed  of 
what  she  made,  seemed  to  be  greatly  taken,  for  that  he  found 
her  never  idle.  '  I  will  warrant  a  good  housewife,'  quoth  he 
to  himself. 

"  Mercy  then  revealed  the  business  to  the  maidens  that  were 
of  the  house,  and  inquired  of  them  concerning  him,  for  they 
did  know  him  better  than  she.  So  they  told  her  that  he  was  a 
very  busy  young  man,  and  one  who  pretended  to  religion,  but 
was,  as  they  feared,  a  stranger  to  the  power  of  that  which  is 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  525 

good.  '  Nay,  then,'  said  Mercy, '  I  will  look  no  more  on  him, 
for*  I  purpose  never  to  have  a  clog  to  my  soul.'  Prudence  then 
replied  that  there  needed  no  matter  of  great  discouragement  to 
be  given  to  him :  her  continuing  so  as  she  had  begun,  to  do  for 
the  poor,  would  quickly  cool  his  courage. 

"  So  the  next  time  he  comes  he  finds  her  at  her  old  work, 
making  things  for  the  poor.  Then  said  he,  'What!  always 
at  it  ?' — '  Yes/  said  Mercy,  *  either  for  myself  or  for  others.' — 
'And  what  canst  thou  earn  a  day  ?'  said  he. — '  I  do  these  things,' 
said  she, '  that  I  may  be  rich  in  good  works,  laying  up  in  store 
for  myself  a  good  foundation  against  the  time  to  come,  that  I 
may  lay  hold  on  eternal  life.' — '  Why,  prithee,  what  doest  thou 
with  them?7 — 'Clothe  the  naked,'  said  she.  With  that  his 
countenance  fell.  So  he  forbore  to  come  after  her  again.  And 
when  he  was  asked  the  reason  why,  he  said  that  Mercy  was  a 
pretty  lass,  but  troubled  with  ill-conditions." 

By  this  time  you  are,  no  doubt,  better  informed  about 
this  figure  than  was  the  old  lady  in  Sheridan's  comedy 
of  the  "  Rivals,"  who  said  of  her  niece  that — 

"  She  was  as  headstrong  as  an  allegory  on  the  banks  of  the 
Nile." 

Hawthorne,  one  of  our  very  best  American  prose  writ- 
ers, though  sometimes  guilty  of  the  anti-natural  and  re- 
volting, has  written  a  capital  imitation  of  Bunyan  in  his 
"  Celestial  Railroad."  He  represents  himself  as  travel- 
ing in  this  new  and  easy  way  to  Heaven,  with  Mr.  Smooth 
it  Away,  Mr.  Love  for  the  World,  Mr.  Hide  Sin  in  the 
Heart,  Mr.  Scaly  Conscience,  and  others  from  the  town 
of  Shun  Repentance.  Apollyon  has  the  management 
of  the  engine,  and,  as  might  be  expected,  keeps  up  the 
heat  well ;  and,  instead  of  reaching  Heaven,  the  journey 
ends  with  a  tremendous  explosion.  Among  other  first- 
rate  allegories, we  direct  you  to  the  "History  of  John 
Bull,"  by  Dr.  Arbuthnot ;  Shakespeare's  "  Queen  Mab ;" 
also  his  "Seven  Ages;"  Paulding's  "History  of  John 
Bull  and  Brother  Jonathan;"  Dryden's  "  Hind  and  Pan- 


526         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

ther,"  full  of  power  and  varied  versification ;  Mrs.  Bar- 
bauld's  "Choice  of  Hercules;"  Dr.  Johnson's  "  HilKof 
Science,"  and  also  his  "Journey  of  a  Day,  a  picture  of 
human  life  ;"  Hawksworth's  "  Eastern  Narrative  " — no 
life  pleasing  to  God  which  is  not  useful  to  man.  Addi- 
son's  "Vision  of  Mirza"  is  a  composition  than  which 
never  was  any  more  exquisite  ever  written.  Cheever's 
"  Lectures  on  Bunyan  "  are  inexpressibly  admirable. 

To  give  one  or  two  of  the  shorter  specimens  of  this 
noble  figure,  the  United  States  have  produced  nothing 
more  finished  than  Longfellow's  "  Ship  of  State ;"  fit  to 
be  a  national  piece.  Mark  how  simple  and  Saxon  is  the 
language ;  nine  monosyllabic  lines  out  of  twenty-two. 
Blessings  be  on  him  who  wrote  this  address ! 

"  Thou,  too,  sail  on,  O  ship  of  state  ! 
Sail  on,  O  Union,  strong  and  great ! 
Humanity,  with  all  its  fears, 
With  all  its  hopes  of  future  years, 
Is  hanging  breathless  on  thy  fate  ! 
We  know  what  master  laid  thy  keel, 
What  workmen  wrought  thy  ribs  of  steel ; 
Who  made  each  mast,  and  sail,  and  rope, 
What  anvils  rang,  what  hammers  beat; 
In  what  a  forge  and  what  a  heat 
Were  shaped  the  anchors  of  thy  hope  ! 
Fear  not  each  sudden  sound  and  shock — 
'Tis  of  the  wave  and  not  the  rock; 
'Tis  but  the  flapping  of  the  sail, 
And  not  a  rent  made  by  the  gale ! 
In  spite  of  rock  and  tempest-roar, 
In  spite  of  false  lights  on  the  shore, 
Sail  on,  nor  fear  to  breast  the  sea ! 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  are  all  with  thee ; 
Our  hearts,  our  hopes,  our  prayers,  our  tears, 
Our  faith  triumphant  o'er  our  fears, 
Are  all  with  thee,  are  all  with  thee."- 

We  hope  you  will  relish  deeply  what  speaks  of  the  do- 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  527 

mestic,  from  the  rural  lips  of  Allan  Ramsay,  the  Theoc- 
ritus of  our  literature — our  first  quotation  from  him — 
may  it  have  the  effect  of  sending  you  to  his  "  Gentle 
Shepherd,"  the  finest  pastoral  the  world  possesses ;  given 
to  our  zephyrs  before  Burns  dawned  on  the  North.  Ram- 
say was  originally  a  poor  barber  in  Edinburgh,  but  he 
produced  this  pastoral  drama,  and  being  as  prudent  as 
he  was  poetical,  he  became  a  successful  bookseller,  and 
amassed  a  respectable  independence.  Two  country  lasses, 
as  fresh  as  their  May-born  daisies,  have  met  on  a  lovely 
summer  morning,  by  the  side  of  a  small  clear  brook,  or 
burn,  to  wash  and  bleach  their  "  claithes."  Their  names 
are  Peggy  and  Jenny.  Jenny  pretends  to  prefer  a  single 
to  a  married  life : 

"A  dish  o'  married  love  right  soon  grows  cauld, 
And  dozens  down  to  nane,  as  fouk  grow  auld." 

Peggy  is  much  honester ;  and  replies : 

"  But  we'll  grow  auld  thegither,  and  ne'er  find 
The  loss  of  youth,  when  love  grows  on  the  mind. 
Bairns  and  their  bairns  make  sure  a  firmer  tie 
Than  aught  in  love  the  like  o'  us  can  spy. 
See  yon  twa  elms  that  grow  up  side  by  side? 
Suppose  them  some  years  syne  bridegroom  and  bride. 
Nearer  and  nearer  ilka  year  they're  prest, 
Till  wide  their  spreading  branches  are  increased. 
This  shields  the  ither  frae  the  eastern  blast, 
That  in  return  defends  it  frae  the  west. 
Such  as  stand  single  (state  sae  liked  by  you) 
Beneath  ilk  storm  frae  every  airt  maun  bow." 

Very  deep  lies  the  taste  for  the  allegoric  in  man's  best 
nature;  this  figure  is  well  fitted  to  make  an  interesting 
object  still  more  interesting,  being  a  graceful  veil,  deli- 
cately embroidered,  flung  over  a  noble  form ;  but  so  as 
to  allow  its  grand  or  fair  proportions  to  shine  through. 
Thus  much  of  the  Greek  mythology  is  an  allegoric  veil 
over  important  truths.  Venus,  for  instance,  or  Beauty, 


528         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

is  fabled  to  have  been  born  of  the  sea-foam  ;  and  whence 
sooner  could  the  emotion  of  the  beautiful  have  been 
awakened  in  the  human  mind  than  when  man  was  gaz- 
ing on  the  bright,  soft  curve  of  the  bounding  billow,  and 
on  the  sparkling  foam  of  its  swelling  crest  ?  Again,  Ve- 
nus is  married  to  Vulcan,  the  god  of  blacksmiths,  de- 
formed and  begrimmed  with  soot — a  marriage  apparent- 
ly so  ill-assorted  as  to  be  the  standing  jest  of  all  school- 
boys ;  for  their  teachers  have  not  told  them  the  mighty 
truth  that  lies  under  this — namely,  how  deeply  indebted 
the  beautiful  arts  and  adornments  of  life  are,  and  how  in- 
dissolubly  married  to  homely  toil,  sweltering  at  its  fur- 
nace; and  so  it  is  this  same  Vulcan,  the  Tu-Balcain  of 
Genesis — thoughtless  and  ungrateful  they  who  despise 
him — that  peoples  the  halls  of  the  gods,  and  embosses 
the  shields  of  monarchs,  with  elegance,  thought,  and 
beauty.  The  haughty,  amid  their  luxuries,  while  the 
gems  of  art  gleam  on  their  walls,  may  look  down  on 
brawny  labor ;  but  the  espousals  have  been  ordained  by 
Jehovah  himself — the  wedlock  of  the  beautiful  with  the 
toilsome,  of  Venus  with  Vulcan.  How  profound  a  truth, 
too,  in  that  allegory — although  Lucian,  greatest  master 
of  humor  in  the  Greek  literature,  saw  in  it  nothing  but 
absurdity — of  Minerva  leaping  full  grown  and  in  com- 
plete armor  from  the  brain  of  Jove;  for  Minerva  was 
wisdom,  and  wisdom  is  God's  eldest  and  victor-born : 
folly  and  sin  are  weak  and  defenseless  things  in  the  day 
of  trial ;  but  true  thought  and  wisdom,  child  of  God,  goes 
forth  in  triple  mail,  to  conquer  her  way  to  the  higher 
happiness. 

If  we  from  fable  pass  to  truth,  we  find  the  Old  Testa- 
ment types  of  kin  with  allegory :  the  Paschal  Lamb  is 
carried  every  where  round  the  world,  proclaiming  Jesus. 
And  so  the  Gothic  cathedral,  wondrous  offspring  of 
Christianity,  is  a  grand  allegory  in  stone,  which  most 
deeply  impresses  those  who  are  most  familiar  with  it. 
Stand  beneath  these  arches,  and  never  again  will  you 


Figures  of  Rhetoric.  529 

term  those  ages  that  produced  them  "  the  Dark  Ages." 
That  cathedral  pile  is  cruciform,  to  remind  men  of  Cal- 
vary ;  its  altar,  directed  toward  the  rising  sun,  summons 
us  to  point  our  deepest  feelings  to  the  Deity;  its  lofti- 
ness throughout  symbolizes  the  soaring  of  holy  thought ; 
its  massive  stone  represents  matter,  all  inert  in  itself,  but 
wondrously  impressible  by  mind  and  mental  forces;  its 
three  main  towers  tell  of  the  Trinity ;  its  choir,  temple 
within  temple-,  pictures  a  pious  soul  incased  in  a  conse- 
crated body;  its  roses,  scattered  so  profusely,  represent 
to  the  very  eye  the  bloom  of  immortality ;  its  high  pin- 
nacles call  us  to  aspire  toward  the  heavens. 

Our  subject  is  finished.  Whatever  decision  may  be 
come  to,  as  to  the  way  in  which  we  have  done  our  work, 
the  idea  itself  with  which  we  started  was  worthy  of  a 
lifetime ;  very  singular  that  no  student  of  books  or  of 
language  ever  suggested  it  before — to  test  a  whole  liter- 
ature by  the  light  of  figurative  speech.  And  what  a 
miracle  is  the  gift  of  articulation ;  what  a  heritage  ours, 
the  tongue  of  Shakespeare  and  of  the  Bible — a  speech 
which,  so  far  from  having  begun  to  wane,  is  far  from 
being  as  yet  half  developed.  May  the  careful  perusal 
of  this  volume  aid  not  a  little  in  the  reconstruction  of 
rhetoric ;  disabuse  the  subject  of  the  mean  and  narrow 
opinions  that  prevail  as  to  figures ;  give  higher  weapons 
to  oratory  and  to  poesy ;  and  secure  more  hallowed  and 
more  undoubted  triumphs  to  our  modern  Christian  elo- 
quence in  all  its  many  departments.  And  when  the 
quotations  we  have  brought  together  are  perused,  may 
every  reader  cherish  the  feeling  that  the  American  and 
English  literature  are  not  two  but  one;  and  that  these 
nations  are  inseparable,  whether  we  call  it  the  British- 
American  race  or  the  Columbian-British.  More  and 
more  may  the  two  parts  assimilate  into  one  inseparable 
commonwealth  of  liberty  and  of  thinking  and  of  devo- 
tion— a  race  destined  to  send  this  language  over  the 
world.  Therefore,  as  we  venture  to  lay  our  book  before 

LL 


530         Might  and  Mirth  of  Literature. 

that  Christ  from  whom  cometh  the  noblest  inspiration, 
we  exclaim  in  our  own  words : 

Religion  lies  about  our  feet  in  flowers, 
And  over-diadems  our  head  in  stars; 
While  Deity  breathes  round  us  in  spring  winds, 
And  in  the  hush  of  woods,  saith,  "  Peace  !     Be  still  1" 
While  all  the  thunders  call  us  to  repentance ; 
And  Christ,  high  soul  of  music,  love,  and  sunrise — 
Christ — He  of  literature,  theme,  source,  and  model — 
Shows  something  of  His  smile  in  all  that's  fair, 
And  glimpses  of  His  heart  in  all  that's  gentle ! 


LIST  OF  FIGURES   OF  SPEECH 

DESCRIBED  IN  THIS  VOLUME. 


'    I.  Aphseresis,  Front-Cut.     55 
-    II.  Syncope,  Mid-Cut 64 

III.  Synaeresis 64 

IV.  Crasis 64 

V.  Synezesis,  Synecphone- 

sis 65 

VI.  Apocope,  End-Cut 69 

VII.  Prosthesis,  Prefixing. . .     76 
VIII.  Epenthesis,  Insertion..     80 
IX.  Paragoge,  Annexation.     Si 
X.  Diaeresis,  Separation  . .     85 
XI.  Tmesis,  Diacope,    Cut- 
ting      86 

XII.  Metathesis,  Twisting...     87 

XIII.  Intentional  Misspelling.     89 

XIV.  Syllabification 90 

XV.  Dialect 91 

XVI.  The  Alphabetic 91 

XVII.  Combination 92 

XVIII.  Accentuation. . .  t^jjj_^__2i 

XIX.  Ellipsis 97, 

XX.  Asyndeton,    Lack     of 

Ands 117 

XXI.  Polysyndeton,       Many 

Ands 121 

XXII.  Zeugma,  Joining 127 

XXIII.  Syllepsis,  Synesis,  Syn- 

thesis     128 

XXIV.  Paradiastole,    Neithers 

and  Nors 128 

XXV.  Pleonasm,  Superfluity.   129 

XXVI.  Me-ism 133 

XXVII.  Hypallage,   The    Cart 

before  the  Horse...   133 


NO.  PAGE 

XXVIII.  Enallage,  Exchange.  138 

XXIX.  Antiptosis 140 

XXX.  Antemeria 140 

XXXI.  Heterosis 140 

XXXII.  Metastasis 144 

XXXIII.  Hyperbaton,  Trans- 

position,    Inver- 
sion    147 

XXXIV.  Anastrophe 151 

XXXV.  Simile 156* 

XXXVI.  Metaphor.... 184 

XXXVII.  Metonymy 202 

XXXVIII.  Synecdoche 218 

XXXIX.  Metalepsis 219 

XL.  Trope 221 

XLI.  Hypocatastasis,  Im- 
plication   23 1 

XLII.  Epanorthosis,  Cor- 
rection  239 

XLIII.  Anamnesis,  Recall- 
ing   242 

XLIV.  Aposiopesis,     Sud- 
den Silence 242 

XLV.  Sudden  Self- Inter- 
ruption  243 

XLVI.  Emblem 244 

XLVII.  The  Weird 247 

XLVIII.  The  Quaint 248 

XLIX.  Antithesis,  Epanti- 

osis 248 

L.  Antimetabole 250 

LI.  Parison,     Annomi- 

nation 250 

LI  I.  Omoioteleuton 250 


List  of  Figures  of  Speech. 


532 

NO.  PAGE 

LIII.  Isocolon 251 

LIV.  Commutation 251 

LV.  Intentional    Dis- 
crepancy   263 

LVI.  Nonsense 264 

LVII.  Oxymoron,   Wise 

Folly 265 

LVIII.  Euphemism,  Smooth  " 

Handle 269 

LIX.  Misnomer 271 

LX.  Hyperbole,   Exag- 
geration    271 

LXT.  Peculiarity  of  Usage  278 
LXII.  Litotes,  Meiosis,' 

Lessening 280 

LXIII.  The  Bull 282 

LXIV.  Repetition 288 

LXV.  Ploce 288 

LXVI.  Gemination 289 

LXVII.  Anaphora,  Epana- 

phora 289 

LXVIIL  Epistrophe,  Anti- 
strophe,  Epepho- 
ra,  Conversion. ..  289 

LXIX.  Symploce 290 

LXX.  Anadiplosis 290 

LXXI.  Epadiplosis,  Epa- 

nadiplosis 290 

LXXII.  Complection 290 

LXXIII,  .Epanalepsis 290 

LXXIV.  Epanodos,  Regres- 
sion    291 

LXXV.  Polyptolon 291 

LXXV.I.  Epizeuxis,      Tra- 

duction 291 

LXX VII.  Paregmenon 291 

LXXVIII.  Summation 291 

LXXIX.  Choral  Chant. .....  293 

LXXX.  .Echo 297 

LXXXI.  Redoubled  Negation  297 
LXXXII.  Redo-ubled    Affir- 
mation    298 

LXXXIII.  Synonym 301 

LXXXIV.  Ascription  of  Value  303 
LXXXV.  Doubt,  Dubitation. .  303 
LXXXVI.  Pretended    Discov- 
ery   306 


NO. 

LXXXVII. 

LXXXVIII. 

LXXXIX. 

XC. 

XCI. 

XCII. 
XCIII. 
XCIV. 

xcv. 

XCVI. 
XCVII. 

XCVIII. 
XCIX. 

c. 

CL 


en. 

cm. 

CIV. 

cv. 

CVI. 
CVII. 

CVIII. 
CIX. 

ex. 

CXI. 


CXII. 
CXIII. 
CXIV. 

cxv. 

CXVI. 
CXVII. 


PAGE 

Aporia,  Pretended        i 
Impossibility...   306 

Ignorance 306 

Indistinctness 307 

Affirmation 309 

Affirmation  and 
Negation ......  310 

Apostrophe 310  "~ 

Denunciation 315 

Solemn  Appeal. .  315 

Oath,  Adjuration, 
Anathema 317 

Command 318 

Exclamation  of 
Sorrow 319 

Spiritualization. . .  .320 

Irony,  The  Dry 
Mock 321— 

Antiphrasis,The 
Broad  Flout 323 

Ironical  Permis- 
sion or  Ironical 
Command 324 

Anti-Irony,  Pre- 
tended Blame . .  324 

Mock-Heroic 325 

Personification, 

Prosopopeia. . . .   325 — 

Ascription  of  In- 
tention   334 

Anti-Personifi- 
cation    335 

Enhancement  by 
Difference 339 

Egoism 341 

Self-Depreciation.  342 

Paranomasia,  The 
Pun 343 

Antanaclasis, 
Same  Word   in      r 
Different  Sense.  343 

Soliloquy 345 

Direct  Address ...  345  / 

Dialogue 347  \J 

Prediction 353 

Anticipation 355 

Paralepsis 355 


List  of  Figures  of  Speech. 


533 


NO. 

t/CXVIII. 
CXIX. 

cxx. 

CXXI. 


CXXII. 
CXXIII. 

,/CXXIV. 

cxxv. 

CXX  VI. 

l^CXXVII. 

CXXVIII. 

CXXIX. 

cxxx. 

CXXXI. 
CXXXII. 

CXXXIII. 
CXXXIV. 

cxxxv. 


CXXXVII. 

CXXXVIII. 
CXXXIX. 

CXL. 

CXLI. 

CXLII. 

CXLIII. 

CXLIV. 

CXLV. 

CXLVI. 

CXLVIL 


PAGE 

Apophasis,    Pre- 
tended Omission  355 

Disparity 356 

Outward   Illustra- 
tion   357 

Accompaniment, 
Incidentalism  of 
the  Moment  ...  359 
Meeting  of  Oppo- 

sites 360 

Onomatopy,  Sound 
Resembling 

Sense 361 

Erotesis,    Interro- 
gation   365 

Responsion,  Ques- 
tion and  Answer  372 
Ecphonesis.Excla- 

mation 374 

Epiphonema 374 

Nomination^ 376 

Technicality 378 

Indication 378 

Vision 380 

Hypotyposis,  Visi- 
ble Presentation  383 
Present  Occurrence  384 

Hearing 384 

Motion 387 

Climax,    Ladder, 
Incrementum, 

Epiploce 390 

Anti-Climax,  Cat- 
abasis,     Ladder 
to  get  Down  by.  394 
From    Less    to 

Greater 394 

From   Greater   to 

Less 395 

Parallelism 398 

Numeration 399 

Sudden  Address. .  404 

Surprisal 406 

Reservation 407 

Pause 408 

Double  Meaning .  409 
Memesis,  Mimicry  409 


NO. 

CXLVIII. 

CXLIX. 

CL. 

CLI. 

CLII. 
CLIII. 


CLIV. 

CLV. 

CLVI. 

CLVII. 


CLVIII. 

CLIX. 

CLX. 

CLXI. 

CLXII. 
CLXIII. 
CLXIV. 

CLXV. 

CLXVI. 
CLXVIL 

CLXVIII. 

CLXIX. 

CLXX. 

CLXXI. 


CLXXII. 

CLXXIII. 

CLXXIV. 

CLXXV. 

CLXXVI. 

CLXXVII. 


CLXXVIII. 


PAGE 

Archaism 411 

Concession 411 

Paramologia 411 

Synchoresis,  Per- 
mission   411 

Prohibition 415 

Indirect  Statement, 
Coverture,    The 
Gentle  Hint. ...  417 
Specification  of  De- 
tails...   420 

Plurals 425 

Optation,  Wish ...  425 
Anacoenosis,  Ap- 
plying to  Oppo- 
nent or  Hearer. .  426 

Supposition 427 

Isolation 428 

Unification 430 

Assumption    of 

Agreement 431 

Pretended  Assent.  432 

Interpolation 432 

Catachresis. 434 

Anacoluthon,Twist 

in  Grammar 435 

Affirmative  Nega- 
tion   435 

Negative  Affirma- 
tion    436 

Community 437 

Proprietorship....  437 

Prolepsis. 438 

Procatalepsis,  Pre- 
supposing of  Ad- 
versary's Argu- 
ment   438 

Self-Substitution. .  440 

Retort 440 

Conversion 441 

The  Prosaic 442 

Indirection 443 

Oratorical    Syllep- 
sis :  a  Word  used 
both       Literally 
and  Figuratively  AJ\J\ 
Attitude ^4 


534 


List  of  Figures  of  Speech. 


NO. 

CLXXIX. 

CLXXX. 
CLXXXI. 

CLXXXII. 
CLXXXIII. 

CLXXXIV. 
CLXXXV. 

^CLXXXVI. 
CLXXXVII. 

CLXXXVIII. 

CLXXXIX. 

CXC. 

CXCI. 

CXCII. 

CXCIII. 

CXC  IV. 

cxcv. 

CXCVI. 
'  CXCVII. 
CXCVIII. 

CXCIX. 


PAGE 

Oracular  Sum- 
ming up 448 

Abbreviation  . . .  450 

Hendiadys,  Split- 
ting into  Two.  450 

Antonomasia, 
Proper  Name.  450 

Alliteration,  Ho- 
moeopropheron  451 

Poetic  Forms. . .  456 

Sudden  Transi- 
tion   459 

Allusion 461 

Hint  or  Sugges- 
tion   465 

Ascription  of  De- 
termination. . .  466 

Periphrasis,  Cir- 
cumlocution . .  466 

Superfine  En- 
glish   474 

Interpretation. . .  474 

Proverbs 475 

The  Third  Per- 
son   477 

Odd  Rhyme 478 

Odd  Bits  of 
Prose . '. 479 

Household 
Words 479 

Pretended  De- 
preciation   480 

Rhetorical  Use 
of  the  Past . . .  480 

Rhetorical  Use 
of  the  Future.  481 


NO.  PAGE 

CC.  Ascription  of  Ration- 
ality to  Lower  An- 
imals   482 

CCI.  Nicknames 484 

CCII.  The  Doric 485 

CCIII.  Impersonation, 
Character-act- 
ing   485 

CCIV.  The  Materialistic. . .  486 
CCY.  The  Singular  Num- 
ber    487 

CCVI.  Double  Nouns  and 
other  Double 

Words 488 

CCVII.  Celerity 489 

CCVIII.  Epithetic 490 

CCIX.  Passing  over  from 
the  Literal  to  the 

Figurative 491 

CCX.  Threat 492 

CCXI.  Repose 492 

CCXII.  Bulk 494 

CCXIII.  Classicality 495 

CCXIV.  Rallying-Cries 495 

CCXV.  Appeal  to  Knowl- 
edge  496 

CCXVI.  Reverse 496 

CCXVII.  SpecificationofPlace  496 

CCX  VIII.  Specification  of  Time  496 

CCXIX.  Cry  of  Warning....  497 

CCXX.  Familiarity 498 

CCXXI.  The  Obverse 499 

CCXXII.  Parody 512 

CCXXIII.  Idioms 513 

CCXXIV.  Parable 518 

CCXXV.  Allegory 521 


INDEX. 


Abbadie,  346,  387. 
Abernethy,  Dr.,  515. 
Abraham,  xlv. 
Adams,  John  Quincy,  255. 

,  Thomas,  141. 

Addison,  xxxix.,  1.,  92, 112,  129,  176,  194,  223, 

265,  516. 

^Eschines,  1 89,  430. 
^Esop,  483,  514. 
Ailsa  Craig,  132. 
Akenside,  102. 
Albert,  Prince,  385. 
Alcsus,  369. 

Alexander,  379,  381,  486,  491. 
Alfred,  104,  136. 
Alhama,  294. 

Alison,  Sir  Archibald,  196. 
Allegories,  none  in  the  Bible,  522. 
Allingham,  334. 
Allston,  226. 

Ambiguities  of  English,  516. 
Ames,  213, 226,  235,  412, 473. 
Amos,  469. 
Anglo-Saxon,  104. 
Anselm,  352. 
Anthon,  Prof.,  167. 
Arbroath,  410. 
Ariosto,  152. 
Aristophanes,  513. 
Aristotle,  his  Prayer,  336. 
Arnold,  Edwin,  282. 

,  Matthew,  73. 

Arthur,  William,  421. 

Atheism  despicable,  65,  165,  166,  174,  177, 183, 

1 86, 190,202,206,337. 
Atkinson,  xlviii. 
Augustine,  252. 
Author  of  this  volume  gives  us  twenty-one 

bits  of  poesy,  lii.,  liii.,  58, 72, 98, 147, 199, 200, 

220, 245,  334,  376, 387, 437, 455,  457,  465, 475, 

492,  520,  530. 
Avonmore,  Lord,  43 1. 
Ayton,  Sir  Robert,  61. 
Aytoun,  Prof.,  94,  214,  270,  325. 


Bacon,  Lord,  162, 177,  235,  251. 

Baillie,  Joanna,  95,  214. 

Ballads,  189, 293, 402,  507. 

Bancroft,  190. 

Barbauld,  Mrs.,  223,  266. 

Barbour,  311. 

Barham,  81. 

Barnes,  Albert,  369. 

,  William,  91. 

Bascom,  Prof.,  154, 481. 

Bayle,  109. 

Bayly,  65. 

Bayne,  171,253. 

Bearcroft,  71. 

Beattie,  Dr.,  83,  510. 

Beaumont,  67, 213. 

Beddoes,  243. 

Bedell,  388. 

Bedford,  Duke  of,  426. 

Beecher,  H.  W.,  xlvii.,  179,  259,  292,  434. 

,  Lyman,  209. 

Bernard,  Lady  Anne,  399, 424. 

,  St.,  2 56, 3 70. 

Bethune,  Dr.,  423. 

Bible,  xli.,  li.,  166,  169,  187,  188,  198,  205,  206, 
208, 210, 211, 217, 218, 220, 232, 236, 240, 241, 
243,  248, 267, 268, 270, 271, 272, 288, 290, 291, 
293, 301, 304, 307,  3io,  315. 32i,  324, 325, 327, 
334,  336, 338, 345,  346, 347?  357,  359,  367.  3?6, 
380,  388, 390, 395, 396, 398, 399, 400, 406, 407, 
409, 411,  412, 415, 424, 426, 428, 435,  438, 442, 
443,448,487,489. 

,  Panegyric  on,  by  a  good  Roman  Cath- 
olic, 509. 

Bigelow  Papers,  80. 

Blackwood's  Magazine,  xxxviii. 

Blair,  Dr.,  3 1 1,  383. 

Blennerhasset,  407. 

Boker,  G.  H.,  203. 

Bolingbroke,  Lord,  174. 

Bonar,  Horatius,  247. 

Bossuet,  268, 359,  429. 

Boston,  City  of,  425. 

Boswell,  James,  149. 


536 


Index. 


Boswell,  Sir  Alexander,  338. 

Bothwell,  Lady  Ann,  153,  154. 

Bourdaloue,  268,  394,  407. 

Bowes,  xiix. 

Bowles,  95. 

Boyd,  Dr.,  219  ;  on  Milton,  107,  424. 

Breitman,  Hans,  xlviii. 

Brewster,  Sir  David,  235. 

Bronte,  Charlotte,  333. 

Brougham,  Lord,  315,  341, 349,  420; 

Brown,  Dr.  Thomas,  xli.,  261,  234,  246,  318: 

,  Gould,  141,  434. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  155,  193. 

Browning,  Mrs.,  131,  143,  171. 

Bruce,  Michael,  313. 

Brunanburh,  Battle  and  Song,  136. 

Bryant,  William  Cullen,  excellent  advice  by, 

75,  108.  * 

Brydges,  Sir  Egerton,  107. 
Buchanan,  George,  250. 
Bulwer  the  Elder,  148,  372. 

the  Younger,  332. 

Bunyan,  John,  177,  227,  523. 

Burke,  50,  74, 234,  235,  237,  268,  412,  420,  449, 

516. 

Bumet,  367. 
Burns,  1.,  55,  65,  76,  94, 114,  132,  139, 142,  159, 

179, 260,  264, 270, 273,  306,  339.  360, 457, 473, 

495.  5i8. 
Burr,  407. 

Bushnell,  120,  168,  213,  400. 
Butler,  General,  464. 

— ,  Hudibras,  66,  69,  274. 
Byrom,  61. 
Byron,  Hi.,  95,  148,  152,  153,  164, 186,  192,  238, 

253,  333,  36i,  368,  375,  385,  5i5- 

Csedmon,  468. 

Caesar,  102,  108,  134,  144,  145,  251. 

Caird,  Dr.,  165. 

Cairn,  a,  490. 

Calderon,  449. 

Callanan,  182. 

Camoens,  239. 

Campbell,  Dr.,  165,  249,  425. 

,  Lord,  xliii.,  317. 

,  Thomas,  lii.,  59,  186, 192, 223,  233, 307, 

32%  359, 362. 

Canning,  207,  329,  358,  418. 
Cant  terms  denounced,  515. 
Carlyle,  130,  200,  448 ;  on  Burns,  507. 
Gary,  no. 

,  Alice,  435- 

Catiline,  101,  265,  322. 
Catullus,  332. 
Cervantes,  258,  476. 
Chalmers,  242,  249,  488.  • 
Chamberlayne,  66. 
Chamisso,  200,  483. 


Character-paintir.r,  78. 
Charles  II.,  109. 

V.,472. 

XII.  of  Sweden,  99. 


Chatham,  Lord,  171,  288,  353,  358,  412,  417, 

425,464,472,480. 
Chaucer,  xxxii.,  56,  62,  69,  72,  76,  78,  110,  145, 

281,423. 

Cheever,  Rev.  Dr.,  526. 
Cherry,  Andrew,  103. 
Chesterfield,  Lord,  158,  426. 
Chevy  Chace,  56,  129. 
Chillingworth,  402. 

Christ,  xlvi.,  li.,  liii.,  121,  122,  229,  530. 
Chrysostom,  305,  415. 
Churchill,  453. 
Cicero,  124,  129,  133,  167,  251,  265,  290,  291, 

302,306,316,516. 
Clare,  John,  445.     . 
Clark,  George  H.,  248. 
,  Willis  G.,  226. 


Clarke,  MacDonalcl,  99. 

Classics,  Reason  for  Studying,  xlix. 

Claverhouse,  Bloody,  270. 

Clay,  Henry,  452. 

Clifford,  225. 

Cochrane,  347. 

Coe,  228. 

Colenso,  Bishop,  401. 

Coleridge,  Hartley,  67. 

,  S.  T.,  161,  248,  269,  282,  363,  515. 

Collins,  Ann,  58. 

,  William,  330,  365. 

Comus,  85. 

Conde',  268. 

Congreve,  William",  90,  303,  381,  386,  403,  423. 

Contemporaries  of  Shakespeare,  67. 

Cook,  Eliza,  369. 

Coppee.  Prof.,  302. 

Corbett,  364. 

Coriolanus,  395,  473. 

Cornwall,  Barry,  59. 

Cosmarch,  502. 

Cotton,  465. 

Courier,  Paul  Louis,  497. 

Cowley,  177,  238,  271. 

Cowper,  William,  152,  215,  273,  335,  341,  457, 

480. 

Crabbe,  94,  253." 
Craik,  Dr.,  183,  510.     . 
Crashaw,  71,  225,  451. 
Creasy,  496. 
Croker,  213. 
Croly,  322. 

Cromwell,  183,  288,  510. 
Croon,  1.,  62. 
Gumming,  414. 
Cunningham,  Allan,  195,  214. 
,  John,  331.. 


Index. 


537 


Curran,  68,  127,  289,  394,  421,  431. 
Cyprian,  398. 

Dana,  108,  254. 

Daniel,  Samuel,  237. 

Danish  Literature,  294. 

Dante,  108,  150,  365. 

Danton,  420. 

Dark  Age  of  English  Literature,  77. 

Darwin  the  Elder,  314,  365  ;   and  his  Ape, 

174^462. 
Dasent,  274. 
Davenant,  276. 
Davis,  Thomas,  334. 
Davy,  Sir  Humphrey,  391. 
Day,  Prof.,  290. 

Deepest  Source  of  Figures,  183. 
Defoe,  251,  515. 
Dekker,  65,  67. 
Delambert,  Madame,  477. 
Demosthenes,  115,  123-1.46, 157, 186,  235,  289, 

297. 304,  3i5,  322, 336. 341, 347,  348,  356, 365, 

406, 425,  430,  433,  441,  444,  466, 493. 
Denham,  177. 
De  Quincey,  155,  200. 
Dibdin,  175. 
Dickens,  92. 
Diogenes,  70. 
Doane,  Bishop,  101. 
Doddridge,  128. 
Donne,  470. 
Doric,  71. 
Dorset  Dialect,  91. 
Douglas,  Gawin,  327. 

— ,  Tragedy  of,  42. 

Downing,  Major  Jack,  346. 

Drake,  326,  453. 

Drayton,  59. 

Drumclog,  Battle  of,  270. 

Dryden,  xxx.,  62,  in,  174,  183,  190,  238,  249, 

254,  276,  365,  480,  510. 
Dumas  the  Younger,  298. 
Dunbar,  236,  326. 
Dunciad,  62. 
Dutch  Landscape,  118. 
D  wight,  141. 
Dyer,  362. 

Earle,  Bishop,  256. 
Ecclesiastical  Polity,  87. 
Edgewortli,  Miss,  64,  283. 
Edwards,  Jonathan,  429. 

— ,  Prof.  B.  B.,  100,  309. 
Elahistoteros,  267. 
Eliot,  George,  454. 
Elizabeth,  Queen,  67. 
Elliott,  Ebenezer,  184. 
Ellsworth,  Erastus,  471. 
Emerson,  281. 


Emmons,  Dr.,  160. 
English  Language,  57,  135. 

only  half  developed,  501. 

Epithets,  two  kinds  of,  334. 
Erskine,  Harry,  343,  344,  438. 

,  Lord,  240,  316,  323,  431. 

Euphues,  60,  181,  195. 
Euripides,  189. 
Evans,  Christmas,  103,  385. . 
Everett,  382,  419. 
Exodus,  chap,  xv.,  117., 

Faber,  F.  W.,  509. 
Faerie  Queene,  79. 
Falconer,  409. 
Falstaff,  70,  133. 
Fanshaw,  Sir  Richard,  214. 
Faval,  466. 
Fenton,  Elijah,  451. 
Ferguson,  Robert,  222. 
-,  Samuel,  320. 


Fern,  Fanny,  149. 

Field,  319. 

Fielding,  89,  433. 

Figures  of  three  kinds,  55, 156;  of  four  kinds, 

230. 

not  yet  discovered,  506. 

Fle"chier,  342. 

Fletcher,  Giles,  72,  142,  148,  209,  272,  309, 

380. 

,  John,  67. 

,  Phineas,  109. 

Fontaine,  483. 

Fontenelle,  97. 

Foote,  97. 

Ford,  67. 

Fosdick,  182. 

Foster,  John,  238. 

Fox,  Charles  J.,  373,  434. 

;,W.J.,39i. 

Francis  I.  of  France,  107. 

Franklin,  Dr.,  344,  479. 

Freeman,  203. 

Freneau,  295. 

Frere,  325,  460. 

Froude,  203. 

Fuller,  Thomas,  141,  230,  330,  344,  476,  513. 

Galileo,  225. 
Garrick,  427,  445. 
Gay,  58,  443- 
Geare,  406. 
Gentle  Shepherd,  71. 
George  1 1 1.,  58,  426. 
Gibbon,  162. 
Gibbons,  219. 
Gilfillan,  469,  471. 
Gladstone,  365.. 
Glover,  in. 


538 


Index. 


God,  1 1 8,  228. 

Godwin,  195. 

Goethe,  no,  in,  368. 

Goldsmith,  164,  202, 361. 

Gonsalvo,  442. 

Goodrich,  412. 

Gothic  Cathedral,  528. 

Gould,  427. 

Gower,  56,  69,  199. 

Grahame,  374. 

Grant,  Sir  Robert,  209. 

Grattan,  335,  354,  473- 

Gray,  151, 172,  178,  190,  260,  364, 450,  468. 

Greece,  391. 

Greek,  49, 502. 

—  Mythology  explained,  527. 
Green,  462. 

Greene,  67. 

Gregory  I.,  252. 

Grenville,  464. 

Griffin,  Dr.,  289,  354,  426,  440. 

Griswold,  252. 

Guarini,  214. 

Guizot,  97,  470. 

Guthrie,  Rev.  Dr.  Thomas,  197,  382,  498. 

Habakkuk,  100. 
Habington,  170. 
Hall,  Bishop,  447. 

,  Rev.  Robert,  251,  274. 

,  the  Missionary,  408. 

Halleck,  260. 

Hamilton,  Alexander,  463. 

Hancock,  John,  344. 

Hare,  186,  255,  404. 

Harms,  241. 

Harrington,  Sir  John,  57,  275. 

Harry,  Blind,  56. 

Hart,  Dr.,  257. 

Harte,  Bret,  56. 

Harvey,  Rev.  James,  204. 

Hastings,  Warren,  3 1 3. 

Hawke,  Sir  Edward,  426. 

Hazlitt,  496. 

Hemans,  Mrs.,  207. 

Henry  IV.,  of  France,  119,  419. 

—  VIII.,  of  England,  xliv.,  472. 

,  Matthew,  xlix.,  470. 

,  Patrick,  418. 

Henryson,  403. 

Herbert,  George,  248,  350,  380. 

— ,  Hon.  William,  224. 
Herder,  241. 
Herrick,  334. 
Heywood,  Hi. 
Higginson,  Colonel,  268. 
Hill,  Aaron,  204. 

,  Rowland,  265,  349,  519. 

Hillard,  George  S.,  261. 


Hillhouse,  73. 
Hitchcock,  Rev.  Dr.,  269. 
Hoffman,  326. 
Hogarth,  117. 
Hogg,  3 13. 

Holmes,  Dr.,  88,  212  ;  on  Rhetoric,  xxxix. 
Holyoake,  304. 
Home,  a  Christian,  120. 
,  John,  xli. 


Homely   Illustrations   much   recommended, 

179,  503- 
Homer,  62,  134,  150,  152,  167,  181,  215,  246, 

249. 
Hood,  Robin,  59. 

,  Thomas,  130,  264,  266,  278. 

Hooker,  Richard,  86,  149,  155. 

,  Thomas,  298,  388. 

Hope,  273. 

Horace,  133.  226,  434,  450. 

Hosmer,  W.  H.  C,  103. 

Howell,  Mary,  130,  261. 

Hoyt,  295. 

Hudson,  193. 

Hugo,  Victor,  420,  481. 

Hume,  David,  116. 

Humphrey,  Dr.,  504. 

Hunt,  Arabella,  381. 

,  Leigh,  lii.,  107,  330. 


Hyacinthe,  Pere  (Charles  Loyson),  488. 

Ingelow,  Jean,  339. 
Invention,  Aids  to,  liii. 
Irelands,  the  two,  296. 
Irishwoman,  89. 

Irving,  Washington,  41,  63,   186,   191,  232, 
237- 

Jackson,  259. 
James,  Angell,  415. 

I.,  of  England,  67,  250. 


Jamieson,  Mrs.,  119. 

Jeffrey,  Lord,  127. 

Jerrold,  xlviii.,  56,  97,  190,  216,  238,  277,  282, 

472. 
Johnson,  Dr.,  99,  108,  115,  116,  155,  221,  235, 

237,  248,  249,  311,  386,  460,  469,  470. 
Jones,  369. 

Jonson,  Ben,  60,  67,  104,  195,  265. 
Judges  ix.,  7-21,  518. 
Jugurtha,  101. 
Junius,  172,  205,  248,  412,  427,  435. 

Keats,  John,  72,  145,  203,  310,  355. 
Kent,  Judge,  127. 
King,  Rev.  Mr.,  270. 
Kingsley,  219,  291. 
Knight,  Charles,  xlviii. 
Knowles,  Herbert,  368. 
,  Sheridan,  312. 


Index. 


539 


Knut,  or  Canute,  468. 
Korner,  353. 
Kosegarten,  299. 
Kossuth,  213. 

Lamartine,  118. 

Lamb,  92,  210,  274,  344. 

Landon,  Miss,  223. 

Langlande,  79,  84,  143,  453. 

Language,  xxxix.,  128. 

Lamed,  379. 

Latimer,  Hugh,  510. 

Latin,  xlix. 

Lauder,  Maggie,  459. 

Lee,  122. 

Leland,  xlviii.,  352. 

Leon,  344. 

L' Estrange,  Roger,  514. 

Lewis,  M.  G.,  310. 

Lever,  Charles,  319. 

Leyden,  John,  223. 

Liberty,  117. 

—  distinguished  from  Freedom,  302. 
Lillo,  372. 

Lisle,  Rouget  de,  386. 
Livingston,  Dr.  John,  408. 
Livy,  217. 
Locke,  John,  173. 
Lockhart,  448. 
Lodbrog,  Regnor,  467. 
Lodge,  Thomas,  161. 
Loftinga,  468. 

Longfellow,  140,  460,  466,  526. 
Longinus,  180. 
Louis  XIV.,  429. 
Lowe,  233. 

Lowell,  James  R.,  80,  199,  323. 
Lowth,  Bishop,  324. 
Luther,  213,  303,  469,  488,  498. 
Lydgate,  370. 
Lyell,  206. 
Lyly,  John,  60. 
Lyndsay,  Sir  David,  410. 
Lyttelton,  Lord,  210,  412,  445. 
Lyttons.     (See  Bulwers.) 

Macaulay,  Lord, xlvi.,  87, 95, 165, 250, 257, 409, 

499 ;  on  Milton,  very  noble,  507. 
Macchiavelli,  371. 
Macdonald,  George,  266. 
Mackay,  369. 
Mackenzie,  175. 
Mackintosh,  244,  433. 
Mandeville,  Sir  John,  xliv. 
Mangan,  147. 
Mansfield,  Lord,  393,  417. 
Marat,  420. 

Marchmont,  Lord,  417. 
Mardley,  138. 


Marlowe,  67,  275. 
Marseillaise  Hymn,  386. 
Marsh,  76,  457. 
Marston,  67,  327. 
Martineau,  Miss,  xlviii.,  269. 
Marvel,  Andrew,  72.  • 
Mason,  Dr.  John,  342. 
-,  William,  328. 


Massillon,  268,  429. 
Massinger,  67. 
Masson,  Dr.,  289. 
Matthews  the  Elder,  399. 
May,  Edith,  77. 
McCarthy,  Dennis,  132,  263. 
McFingal,  266. 
McLellan,  452. 
McQueen,  469. 
Medley,  261,  508. 
Mennis,  82. 
Metaphysics,  472. 
Mickle,  239,  296. 
Mill,  John  Stuart,  462. 
Miller,  Hugh,  235,  470. 

,  Joaquin,  455. 

,  Joe,  403. 

,  William,  306,  324. 


Mills,  the  Missionary,  408. 
Milman,  in. 
Milner,  193. 

Milton,  xlviii.,  1.,  lii.,  62,  82,  8£,  90,  93, 94, 107, 
109, 112, 113, 142, 148, 149, 153, 169, 188, 189, 

211,  212,  213,  2l6,  217,  222,  224,  225,  227,  245, 

265,  280, 283, 290,  298, 308, 363,  377,  389, 402, 

448,450,456,461. 

Minto,  499. 

Mitford,  Miss,  no,  172. 

Moir,  Macbeth,  lii.,  166. 

Moliere,  202. 

Monboddo,  Lord,  174. 

Montague,  Lady  Mary  Wortley,  471. 

Montaigne,  xxxviii.,  193. 

Montgomery,  Alexander,  382. 

,  James,  176. 

,  Robert,  170,  195. 

Moore,  Thomas,  87,  98,  164,  512. 
More,  Hannah,  252. 

,  Sir  Thomas,  xliiL 


Morris,  George  P.,  59. 
,  William,  454. 


Moses,  434. 

Mosheim,  193. 

Motley,  n  8. 

Motherwell,  222. 

Mott,  Rev.  Dr.,  liii.,  491,  503. 

Mudie,  172. 

Mulock,  237. 

Murray,  Lindley,  434. 

Music  in  English  Language,  xlix. 

Mythology,  Greek,  527. 


540 


Index. 


Napoleon,  196,  311,  421,  446. 

Nash,  67. 

Neale,  Henry,  72. 

New  Figures  still  to  be  found,  506. 

Newton,  Sir  Isaac,  105. 

New  Words,  501. 

North,  Christopher,  xxxviii.,  496. 

Nun,  by  Chaucer,  78. 

One-syllabled  Words,  li. 
Osgood,  Mrs.,  119,  179. 
O'Reilly,  Miles,  69. 
Ossian,  311. 
Overbury,  167. 
Owen,  Dr.,  251. 

Paine,  Tom,  237. 

Paley,  Dr.,  359,  514. 

Palgrave,  135. 

Palmer,  191. 

Panza,  Sancho,  476. 

Parnell,  207. 

Parsons,  T.W.,  454. 

Partington,  Mrs.,  88,  234. 

Patmore,  268. 

Paul,  St.,  215,  267,  280,  289,  306,  355,  356, 357, 
426,432,442,445. 

Paulding,  167. 

Payson,  428. 

Peace,  Poem  on,  from  Spanish,  511. 

Peacham,  Henry,  115. 

Pearson,  Bishop,  255. 

Peele,  67,  327. 

Percival,  142. 

Percy,  Bishop,  130,  424,  467,  509. 

Periodic  Sentence,  155. 

Perrault,  466. 

Peter,  469. 

Phillips,  Wendell,  471. 

Phunny  Phellow,  90. 

Pickering,  no,  218. 

Pierpont,  60,  240; 

Piers  the  Plowman,  79, 143,  453. 

Pindar,  Peter.     (See  Wolcott.) 

Pitt,  William,  441, 447. 

Plato,  152. 

Plunket,  321. 

Plutarch,  388, 489. 

Pocahontas,  77. 

Poe,  Edgar,  101, 174. 

Poesy  discriminated  from  Poetry,  by  your  Au- 
thor, 182. 

Poetry,  English,  Four  Eras,  79. 

Pollok,  212. 

Poole,  275. 

Pope,  62, 94,97, 158, 173, 174,249, 273, 362,375, 
408,411,462,469,480. 

Porson,  162. 

Prayer,  Grandeur  of,  336. 


Prescott,  127,  203,  463. 
Priestcraft,  118,  337,  519. 
Prior,  Matthew,  106. 
Proctor,  the  Father,  59,  211,  308. 

,  the  Daughter,  297. 

Prose,  87. 

Psychology,  97. 

Pulpit,  Remarks  on,  155, 196,292,  306,317,  333, 

342,  347)  348,  354>  430. 
Punch,  91,  98. 
Puttenham,  242, 323. 

Quarles,  Francis,  57,  226,  248. 
Quintilian,  160,231,383.  • 

Rabelais,  274,  425. 

Radcliffe,  Mrs.,  180. 

Raleigh,  Sir  Walter,  87,  327,  419,  495. 

Ramsay,  Allan,  55,  60. 

Ramsey,  Dean,  241. 

Randolph,  John,  240. 

,  Thomas,  261. 

Read,  Thomas,  114. 
Reid,  T.  Buchanan,  166. 
Religion  every  where,  530. 
Remorse,  134. 

Revolution,  the  Glorious,  62. 
Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  239,  259. 
Richards,  Miss,  408. 
Richter,  180,  448. 
Robertson,  Dr.,  116. 
Robespierre,  420. 
Robinson,  Rev.  Robert,  331. 
Rochester,  Lord,  109,  394. 
Rogers,  Henry,  405. 

,  Samuel,  232,  307,  442. 


Rosetti,  93,  147. 

Rue,  De  la,  260,  290,  351,  384,  387.  438,  440. 

Ruskin,  1.,  87,  142,  207. 

Russell,  Dr.,  126. 

Ryle,  367. 

Sackville,  Lord  Buckhurst,  61,  330. 

Sallust,  101,  127. 

Sappho,  375. 

Saurin,  343,  387,  423. 

Saxe,  131,  436. 

Scalds,  453. 

Schiller,  258. 

Schoolmistress,  82.     . 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  71,  92,  151,  163,  178,  186, 
188,  192,  205,  213,  214,  215,  223,  237,  270, 
334.  355,  368,  373,  410;  424,  447,  463,  476, 
5°9- 

Scottish  Dialect,  71,  155,  498. 

Scriblerus,  467. 

Sedan,  268. 

Seed,  Dr.,  462. 

Seneca,  118,  250. 


Index. 


541 


Shakespeare,  1L,  lii.,  62,  63,  67,  68,  69,  91,  93, 
94,  109,  no,  113,  114,  1 16, 133, 138,  139,  140, 
142, 145, 146, 153, 167,  170, 178, 186, 188, 197, 
206,209, 213, 218,220,  223, 227,  237, 241, 243, 
244, 258,  263, 269, 271,  278, 279, 289, 297, 298, 
302,  303, 305, 307, 315,  317. 318,  332, 339, 360, 
364. 365, 384, 394,  395. 405, 408, 419,  423, 425, 
430,  432,  435,  444,  448,  450,  469, 478, 479, 480. 

Shakespeare's  Three  Chief  Faults,  506. 

Shall  and  Will,  478. 

Shea,  John  A.,  112. 

Shelley,  1.,  179. 

Shenstone,  82,  208. 

Sheridan,  R.  B.,  273,  293. 

Sherlock,  Bishop,  328,  462. 

Shirley,  67,  207. 

Sidney,  Algernon,  446. 

,  Rev.,  265. 

,  Sir  Philip,  liii. 

Sigourney,  Mrs.,  77. 

Skelton,  163. 

Skinner,  Rev.  John,  90. 

Smith,  Alexander,  141,  191. 

,  Horace,  64,  83. 

,  James,  64,  148. 

,  Seba,  346. 

— .Sydney,  116,132,139,163,211,234,323. 

Smollett,  451. 

Snelling,  323. 

Snodgrass,  101. 

Socrates,  337,  513. 

Solferino,  126. 

Somers,  Lord,  417. 

Sophocles,  189. 

South,  Dr.,  1.,  413. 

Southern,  61. 

Southey,  Mrs.,  521. 

— ,  Robert,  224,  225,  231,  361,  496. 

Sources  of  Figures,  505. 

Southwell,  262. 

Souvestre,  470. 

Spanish, Translation  from,by  your  Author,  387. 

Spectator,  xxxix.,  92,  176,  194,  513,  516. 

Spence,  408. 

Spencer,  Herbert,  268,  462. 
— ,W.R.,443. 

Spenser,  Edmund,  62,  142,  203,  308,  363,  411, 
452,  453'  469- 

Sprague.^  86,  239. 

Spurgeon,  163,  330,  479. 

Stael,  Madame  de,  235. 

Stedman,  347. 

Steele,  Sir  Richard,  284,  513. 

Stephens,  340. 

Sterling,  John,  404,  465. 

Sterne,  133,  175,  277,  373,  422. 

Stevens,  378. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  251,  513. 

Still,  Bishop,  147. 


Stoddard,  Miss,  313.,- " 

Storm,  378. 

Story,  Judge,  393. 

Strafford,  Earl  of,  303. 

Street,  103. 

Strickland,  Miss,  419. 

Study,  How  to,  this  Subject,  74,  164. 

Style,  How  to  Improve,  164,  166,  279. 

Suckling,  Sir  John,  82. 

Suggestiveness,  How  to  Gain,  507. 

Sully,  419. 

Summerfield,  241. 

Superville,  xlvii. 

Surtees,  215. 

Suso,  403. 

Swain,  Charles,  345. 

Swift,  Dean,  155,  467,  514,  516. 

Swinburne,  456. 

Sylvestre,  73. 

Tacitus,  516. 

Taine,  458,  497 ;  on  Shakespeare,  507,  510. 

Talfourd,  175. 

Tannahill,  55. 

Tasso,  150. 

Tassone,  256. 

Tatler,  92. 

Taylor,  Bayard,  331. 

,  Father,  184. 

,  Henry,  138. 

,  Isaac,  193. 

,  Jane,  268.     , 

,  Jeremy,  1.,  162,  197,  204. 

Tecumseh,  331. 

Tennant,  Prof.,  325,  459. 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  the  Poet  Laureate,  xlviii., 

li.,  lii.,  113,  151,  179,  203,  208,  245,  265,  364, 

458,  518. 

,  Frederick,  232. 


Tertullian,  399. 

Thackeray,  408,  474. 

Theocritus,  71,  485. 

Theology,  71,  112. 

Theremin,  157. 

Thierry,  203. 

Thorn,  304. 

Thomson,  79,  iir,  129, 172,  183,  205,  273,  411, 

445.  Sio. 
Thor,  401. 

Tilton,  Theodore,  246. 
Timanthes,  308. 
Tintoretto,  308. 
Toplady,  208. 
Tourneur,  Cyril,  270. 
Translations  of  Bible,  new,  100,  117,  143,  345, 

•379- 
Transubstantiation,  or  Dough  into  God,  159, 

185,  198. 
Trench,  Archbishop,  73,  86,  187. 


542 


Index. 


Trollope,  Anthony,  180. 
Trumbull,  John,  266. 
Tuckerman,  193. 
Turenne,  Marshal,  343. 
Twickenham,  62. 
Tyndale,  Prof.,  462. 

Union  of  England  and- United  States,  529. 
United  States  without  a  National  Name,  503. 

Valhalla  put  Right,  468. 

Vanburgh,  423. 

Vansittart,  71. 

Vaughan,  141,  380. 

Venice,  xli. 

Victoria,  Queen,  385. 

Vinet,  134,  389,  414,  447. 

Virgil,  133,  134,  150,  210,  213,  219,  229,  242, 

'  249.  276,  307,  390.  399.  402,  450. 
Volpe,  245. 
Voltaire,  158. 

Waldenses  Slaughtered  by  Romish  Priests, 

384- 

Walker,  Dr.,  344. 
Waller,  189,  451. 
Walpole,  Horace,  224,  286. 

,  Sir  Robert,  471. 

Ward,  Artemus,  80. 
Waring,  65. 
Warner,  C.  D.,  179. 
Washington,  George,  63. 
Watson,  Dr.,  269. 

— ,  Richard,  388. 
Watts,  Dr.  Isaac,  63,  216,  413. 
Webster,  Daniel,  131,  163,  221,  330,  412,  419, 
463- 


Webster,  the  Dramatist,  67,  424. 
Wesley,  the  Father,  66. 
John,  66,  390. 


Wharton,  62. 
Whately,  Dr.,  155,  251. 
Which,  Use  of,  116. 
White,  Blanco,  371. 

,  Henry  Kirke,  89. 


White,  Two  Kinds  of,  236. 
Whitefield,  366. 
Whittier,  322,  501. 
Widows,  88,  144,  319. 
Wild,  52. 
William  III.,  265. 
Williams,  Isaac,  139. 
Wilmer,  323. 
Wilson,  Alexander,  374. 

,  John, "  Christopher  North,"  xxxviii., 


496. 

Winthrop,  R.  C.,  462. 
Wirt,  407. 

Wolcott,  Dr.,  58,  72,  149,  468. 
Wolfe,  General,  106. 

,  Rev.  C,  379. 

Wordsworth, Hi.,  79, 94, 153, 161, 189, 199,  227, 

283,  334,  335- 
Wormius,  Olaus,  467. 
Worsley,  150. 
Worth,  323- 
Wotton,  Sir  Henry,  266,  471. 

Yorubas,  the,  475. 
Young,  Charlotte,  181. 
,  Dr.,  235,  250,  268,  451- 

Zechariah,  xliv. 
Zutphen,  119. 


THE    END. 


wiTTTS 


RETURN     CIRCULATION  DEPARTMENT 

202  Main  Library 


LOAN  PERIOD  1 
HOME  USE 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

ALL  BOOKS  MAY  BE  RECALLED  AFTER  7  DAYS 

1  -month  loans  may  be  renewed  by  calling  642-3405 

6-month  loans  may  be  recharged  by  bringing  books  to  Circulation  Desk 

Renewals  and  recharges  may  be  made  4  days  prior  to  due  date 

DUE  AS  STAMPED  BELOW 


BB.CIR.    MAY     6 

1981 

JUN  1  1  1981 

July  II 

Auq  j 

Sep-f    i 

Ocl    11 

rJc\i  ii 

DEC  1  fi  '9H1 

0 

Jn^l^ 

IETD    JAN  2  ?  PC 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  BERKELEY 
FORM  NO.  DD6,  60m,  1  1  778          BERKELEY,  CA  94720 


@$ 


02241 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY     . 


